Pale Shelter
by CarvedKid
Summary: Bella has always liked the handsome Edward Cullen. Only she soon realizes that the closer she gets to him, the more it unravels the unnerving & dangerous obsession he has for her. Can they be together despite his overbearing obsession?/DarkEd. COMPLETED.
1. Prologue: Pale Shelter

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended**. **Having read the Twilight books and followed closely the film versions (and becoming an avid fan of the very stunning Kristen Stewart and gorgeous Rob Pattinson in the process), I decided to start writing my own.** **It is something that I enjoy immensely, and I hope you will enjoy this story, too!**

**This story is: Alternate Universe setting, Edward and Bella, and all characters are Human. No vamps. Warning for readers: This story contains and will contain in later chapters themes of violence, touch on the issues of mental illness (or more specifically Bipolar Disorder). I wanted to try writing this story as realistically as possible, with real-life situations, although it's probably very unrealistic and hard to understand at times.**

**Some lemons contain blood play or blood fetishism (Edward has a little fixation with biting and Bella's blood, which will be explained if you delve in deeper to later chapters). Thanks so much for reading, if you do, and again, I** _**really **_**hope you enjoy. **

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**Pale Shelter**

**BSPOV:**

_To love him was easy._

_To leave him, was impossible..._

I was sitting in the cafeteria with my two best friends, Alice Brandon and Rosalie Hale, in mid-conversation about the boys they were pining over, Jasper Whitlock and Emmett McCarty of the football team.

Emmett McCarty was a quarterback, a very muscular boy with a deep voice and a booming laugh that would echo slightly off the walls in the school cafeteria and, Jasper Whitlock, he was the quietest of the whole Forks football team. He always seemed on guard, observing his surroundings and looking alarmed whenever Alice would flutter her hands around, trying to get his attention. Alice's warm enthusiasm was a direct contrast to his impassive state and Rose and I would always tease her about it.

Rosalie was one of the most envied girls in the school, the kind that would cause every girl to doubt their body image and plunge them into insecure mode, me included. She had long blond hair that fell just below her shoulders and today she was wearing leather pants, another move in the seduction game to get Emmett's attention; Every time she sat in her seat they would squeak a little.

Whenever Edward Cullen walked into the school cafeteria, it seemed as if time stood still. The whole room went uncharacteristically quiet and the faintest shimmer of laughter from a few freshman year girls would be heard. He was always impassive, cool, concealed of any emotion as he strode over to an empty table, a cigarette hanging level between his lips and a string of smoke trailing behind him.

The truth is, I sort of had this thing for him. There was something about him, something catching; an air of mystery that I couldn't quite seem to place. He just seemed different from other boys.

Rose and Alice never noticed it, but he was always looking at me with a calm possessiveness that honestly bugged me to the core. I knew I wasn't overreacting in the slightest, for I knew he did it all the time. Especially when he thought I wasn't watching, when he presumed I was preoccupied with finishing my Biology essays and English study novels. Today was no different.

Alice was bouncing in her seat, retelling her latest interaction with Jasper for the millionth time. "He looked me straight in the eyes, like directly, and asked if I wanted to go to the mall with him!"

I listened to her half-heartedly, my concentrating fleeting whenever I felt those pair of green eyes watching me from across the cafeteria. I was sincerely happy for her, happy that Alice was finally starting to get some form of attention from the guy she had been lusting over since seventh grade but I was really starting to feel nervous, if yet paranoid.

The only time I had ever brought up Edward Cullen in conversation was when I had expressed to them my concerns over the fact that he seemed to be alone a lot: "Silly Bella," Rosalie had said, running her long red fingernails through her blond hair. "While I admire your endearing compassion, you must know he's a creep in the most perverse meaning of the word. I heard he had this girlfriend and threatened to end his life when she broke up with him by holding a gun to his head..."

I couldn't fathom what she had meant by the word "creep". He didn't seem obnoxious or mean at all. If anything, a little strange perhaps, but nothing that would signal warning bells or red flags. I presumed what she said had been merely some rumour, nothing else... I push the thought aside as we all go into the girl's bathroom, Alice and Rosalie covering the main basin with one of Alice's favorite style magazines, flipping idly through the pages.

I suddenly feel the urgent need to pee. "I think I gotta go," I say, rushing into the tiny, stone tiled stall.

Alice looked disgusted by my announcement, wrinkling her nose. "Yuck, Bella," she gibed. "Too much information!"

I take my time in the stall, peeing, washing my hands with soap, splashing my face with lukewarm water. My reflection in the mirror shows me pale and red-cheeked, a delayed reaction from blushing at nothing other than sheer anxiety. I swing the door open and gasp when I realize Edward Cullen is standing there and he almost falls into the stall. How did he get in here? And, more importantly, why did Alice and Rosalie leave me all alone in the girl's bathroom?

He shuts the bathroom door behind him to stop me from escaping and flicks the lock. "I'm unquestionably considering cannibalism," he says menacingly, looming over me. Well, I had to admit, that certainly wasn't a pick-up line I had heard before. His voice is soft and compelling, like melting butter, something you could fall asleep to... I wondered why I hadn't noticed it before until now.

"W-what are you doing in the girls bathroom?" I ask finally, gathering my wits.

Silence.

He says nothing, only smirks at me crookedly as he leans against the cold stone wall.

I hesitate. "C-can I, um, help you with anything?" I ask, failing miserably in the attempt of keeping the trembling in my hands away from my voice.

There's more silence, then finally he responds and shows at least some comprehension over what I'm asking. He looks thoughtful. "I don't know," he says, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. "Hmm. Can you?"

I'm starting to lose my patience. "We have to go to class in a few minutes," I tell him, hoping he'll get the picture and will move out of my way; I have a very strong aversion to being late to class.

"You're right," he agrees, softly.

He continues to stand there, leaning against the wall as if waiting for something to happen, staring at me intently with his green, twinkling eyes; eyes that seem to go all the way through me. There's no denying he is very handsome – beautiful, even – in his own way. But, more than often, he made me very uneasy with the overattentive, meaningful looks he'd constantly dart at me from across the tables in the cafeteria.

"Good heavens, you're blushing," he observes, to my surprise.

I look away from him. "I suppose I am," I mutter, looking up at the mould-infested ceiling. I didn't know how to respond to his observations. What was I supposed to say? I'm sweating, starting to feel very hot and uncomfortable right now.

He takes two steps and then he's standing close to me, so close that I can smell the stench of cigarettes clinging to his clothes. Everything stops and suddenly the stillness of the bathroom is suddenly magnified, apparent, and I come to the unfavourable conclusion that I am completely alone with Edward Cullen now in the stall of the girls' bathroom... There is indeed no way of getting out of this.

He leans over and puts his mouth next to my ear. I'm riveted to the spot, feeling an odd thrill of danger and mixed emotions of desire washing over me. I can't move away from him. "I'll be very gentle," he breathes into my ear, and I shiver at the uncomfortable wintry chill of his breath. "Don't be anxious. You can pretend it's all pretend, if you wish..."

It takes a moment to sink in what he actually means by this; he starts kissing my neck, running his tongue against the sensitive skin of my throat. I shudder and my hands instinctively trace the arc of his broad shoulders, up the nape of his neck and then I am running my fingers through his thick, stiff bronzed hair.

I tense, my fingers locking into the strands of his messy hair. "P-Please don't do this," I plead, my voice shaking. I take a deep breath, trying to collect myself. "I'm not interested in a boyfriend right now," I say firmly, trying to sound confident and assured, hoping he won't see through me.

He doesn't answer. He continues kissing my neck and then proceeds to bite it, gently, scraping his teeth along my skin, his warm breath tickling me and saliva leaving my skin wet. I can feel my chest rising and falling, my heart racing. I unlock one of my hands from his hair; slide my hand under his shirt, running my fingers over his taut stomach, then push against him firmly with my palm, hoping inwardly that this will cause him to stop.

This only gives him all the more reason to continue. He bites my neck harder this time, so hard with the sharp canines of his teeth now that the pain is excruciating. My hand locks even tighter against his hair and before a scream can slip from my mouth, he brings his lips to mine and kisses me, very roughly. I moan against the tight seal of his lips and then our lips finally part, his forehead resting on mine and our faces barely inches away from each other. I realize tears are leaking from my eyes and my neck is aching. I can feel my lip trembling.

Edward is stroking my hair now. He is breathing strenuously. "You have _no idea_ how much I've wanted you," he says, urgently. "I have loved you since the very first moment I clapped eyes on you."

I can't take this anymore. I think wildly of making a run for it and my body turns instinctively toward the door. He catches my arm and pulls me to the stone cold wall, my spine shivering from the crushing impact.

"Say it," he commands.

We look at each other for a long moment, him gauging my reaction. I don't understand what he wants from me exactly, and truthfully, I am too afraid to ask out of fear of being hurt again. He's trying to measure his breathing and I realize there's blood and saliva on his chin. I reach my hand up slowly to my neck and feel the sticky, wet sensation of blood between my fingertips. It starts to make me feel very dizzy. Crap.

I am silent, looking anywhere but at him. I don't want to play this game anymore.

"Say it," he demands again in a steel-hard voice, his hand locking into my hair now and pulling on the strands. I tense and flinch away, more tears leaking at the pain and causing my eyesight to go all blurry. His other hand roams under my shirt, exploring unfamiliar terrain, and cupping one of my breasts in his hand. "Say you love me," he demands at last, and finally I comprehend what the solution is to make the pain go away.

"I... love..." The pain is becoming so unbearable now that the words feel as if they are choking me, "...you..."

Edward finally lets go of my hair, releasing his grip and relief rushes over me. He starts stroking my face with his fingertips, pulling his hand out from under my blouse as he kisses my forehead. Noise is suddenly apparent and the bells for next period begin to toll. Please be over now, I think to myself. Please go away.

"Oh, love," I hear him say softly, almost apologetically, taking my hand now and turning his back on me as he unlocks the door at last. My legs feel numb, as if they are so heavy that running would be an extreme difficulty, and I just let him lead me over to the basin. He inspects my neck closely and I hold my breath, afraid that if I exhale it'll all come out freely, the tears and sobbing.

Edward pulls a piece of toilet paper from the machine and starts daubing at my neck. I look away, knowing that if I see any sign of blood I'd be likely to faint or worse. He wipes the blood off my fingertips and for some unfathomable reason I feel grateful for this, grateful even though he is the very person who is responsible for putting me through the pain and suffering.

"What strange creatures we are," he muses, as he throws the toilet paper in the trash. I wasn't sure if he was talking to me, to himself, or to no one in particular. He runs a forefinger along the bridge of my nose and above my brows. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he says in a tone that makes me sincerely believe him. "Any normal gentleman wouldn't have to fight the urge to ravish you..."

He looks apologetic, frowning, his eyebrows furrowed as he stares down at me intently. Perhaps I was brainwashed or perhaps I was mentally insane, but I actually felt myself sympathizing with him, sympathizing with this clearly insane but handsome, boyish man._ I_ was sympathizing with _him_. Not the other way around. Edward kisses me one last time, tender and more thoughtful, before dashing out of the girl's bathroom.

It was then that my emotions finally took over.


	2. Kiss and Make It Better

Disclaimer:

All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I don't own them, clearly lol. A humungous thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited and alerted this story. I really do appreciate it, and you really all are awesome. :) Please keep them coming. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

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I managed to get through most of the day without thinking, too much, about _him_, about the whole incident, about all of it... but now, in the evening, sitting in the lounge room with Charlie, my father; it is all starting to catch up with me.

I'm floating around the kitchen, moving, always moving.

I wish for a moment that some angel would come lift me out of this predicament, out of this day, and into some more benign, clean horizon. Then I have the sudden urge to go shower, to submerge myself under the steaming spray of hot water, to relax the knots of my tense muscles. I put the thought aside, for now.

When dinner is done and ready, I eat slowly. This is good, I'm taking care of myself, I'm not being an idiot, and I'm remembering to feed Charlie. I want to be with people, Alice, Rosalie. I want to be distracted. After I manage to polish off about a third of my mushroom linguine, I sigh and go into the bathroom.

I run hot water into the old tub and strip off today's clothes. As I climb in, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I look pale, lost, and the skin on my neck is dark and purple against my white skin, with two small red puncture wounds from Edward's teeth. It's not quite something that will easily pass off as a hickey. Holy cow. There's no way I can get away with hiding this at school tomorrow morning. I suddenly feel nauseous at the thought of trying to explain myself to Alice and Rose, and I sink down into the water, willing myself to think of nothing but the soothingly mild warmth.

But I found I couldn't suppress the images that flickered by mercilessly in my mind, as I leaned my head back against the wall, for too long: Edward Cullen smirking at me crookedly, the way his warm, moist mouth had circled the skin of my neck, the scraping of his teeth, the feeling of his lips mashing, gently but at the same time startlingly rough, against mine, the smooth urgency in his voice as he demanded I tell him I loved him... I was falling into a dark, deep absyss of fear and confusion. Why had he done that and what could it all have meant?

* * *

Silk patterned scarves are now my new personal saviour. Or so I thought.

"What are you hiding underneath that hideous scarf, Bella?"

I'm sitting in the cafeteria with Alice and Rosalie, my tray of food on the table and untouched. I was trying to distract myself, will myself to think of nothing but the John Steinbeck novel I have in my hands by idly flipping the pages every minute or so, but it's obvious now that I've failed miserably.

I disregard my book and look up at Alice, who is watching me with a peculiar expression on her face. "I happen to like this scarf, thank you very much, Alice," I say, feigning anger and disappointment.

I start toying with the corner of the page, feeling my cheeks burning as Rosalie takes the moment to untangle the scarf. She bursts out laughing. "Bella, you little vamp!" she says, smiling broadly. "Who was the lucky man?"

I couldn't tell Alice and Rosalie. The truth is, I was frightened about the whole thing. I didn't know what they would say or what they would do. Would they laugh and make a joke out of it, or would they call Edward Cullen straight over and ask for details? Alice and Rose knew I was very touchy on the subject of sex or anything remotely close to it.

"Bella," they both say in unison.

Alice touches my arm confidentially. She starts bouncing around in her seat, something she did often when she was both excited and impatient. "Tell us," she says, gravely. "Tell us or else we're going to assume it's the worst nerd in the school..."

I look over at him in the far end of the cafeteria. Edward Cullen is leaning back in his chair, his fingers combing through his bronze tousled hair. Just at that very moment, he meets my gaze. He winks at me and my breath hitches in my throat. Alice and Rosalie see the direction of my gaze. I look away quickly, down at my hands that are now clasped in my lap.

Rosalie straightens up in her seat and I can just imagine the sound of her brain clicking into gear as she processes the reason behind my looking at Edward Cullen. "Oh my, Bella -" she begins, as Alice says, "Who the hell is he? Spit it out now or I'll attack you with my make-up set."

"No makeovers, Alice," I object.

I look over at Rosalie with what I am hoping is a look of unconditional despair, a silent, pleading look that'll convey, _Please don't say a word of this to anyone, especially not to Alice_. For a moment she has an expression of utter bewilderment on her face, but then, to my relief, she nods - an unspoken agreement on her part.

"Are you attending the party tonight at Whitlock's?" she asks and I am immediately thankful for the subject change.

Alice relaxes into her seat at the sound of his name. "We all know that I am," she breathes in an elusive manner. Rose and I exchange glances, and then we burst into laughter. Alice looks up at me through her black lashes and I immediately fall quiet. She starts drumming her fingers against the table in an act of frustration. "I went to the mall with Jasper last night, and we were _this_ close-" she pinches her thumb and forefinger together "-to kissing."

"Poor little Alice," Rosalie says quietly, putting her arm around her shoulders and shaking her. "We all know that Emmett and I have already reached that milestone." She says it matter-of-factly, as though they've been making out with each other since fifth grade. It was new news to us.

Alice looks puzzled. "Since when?" she asks, sceptically.

Rose shrugs. "Since yesterday." She smiles at something, a distant and faraway look in her eyes. "I met him up after practise and we were hiding from his coach under the bleachers." She raises her face in my direction. "Seems somebody went a little further," she says with a knowing look on her face, waiting.

I ignore her look, gathering up my things. "I'm going to get an early start to class," I tell them, standing up.

I was lying and I knew that Rosalie knew it. I knew she sensed something was up. If things had been different, I would have told her straight away what happened with Edward Cullen yesterday in the girls' bathroom. I might have even sounded happy about it. But I wasn't.

I walk slowly through the hallway, feeling as if everybody is looking at me. Nobody seems to speak and I start to wonder if they are all in on it. I think the paranoia was really starting to catch up with me. Somebody catches my arm and I jump, sending my back pitching into a set of lockers. I hear nervous laughter from a few students and then realize its Rosalie who has grabbed my arm. She smiles at me and looks worried.

I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. "I'm so sorry, Rose," I say, sincerely. "I-I thought you were somebody else."

"Are you okay?" she asks. She takes my hand and holds it for a moment.

When I laugh, it sounds fake. "Yeah, I'm fine." I force a smile and she starts walking with me down the hall. "My mom sent me some science fiction novels. I think they're really starting to creep me out..." It sounded like something I would do. I often read a lot of novels, books, anything to occupy my mind. She didn't seem to see through it, but she still asked.

"And what happened with Edward Cullen?"

The bell rings and students start arduously filing their way to second period. It's funny how that name instantly sent my heart racing and my head pounding at the same time. I shrug, trying to seem indifferent. "We just had some sort of fling, I guess," I lie anxiously over the crowd."Nothing, um, serious."

"Well, it's about time you had a fling," she says, smiling. Then, to my surprise, she hugs me apologetically. She gives me one last look before making her way to her class.

I feel a surge of warmth toward Rosalie. She has always been there for me, ever since fifth grade when a boy was teasing me over the fact that I enjoyed reading rather than talking. Alice was always there for me too, and I knew it was wrong to keep her in the dark like this. But if there's one thing I know about Alice, it's that keeping secrets was never her strong point.

In English class, I found it very difficult to concentrate. My mind kept replaying over and over what happened with Edward Cullen in the stall. The look on Edward Cullen's face after it all happened in the girl's bathroom, as he wiped the blood off me, it was apologetic, as though he felt very bad about the whole thing. He didn't seem as if he was doing it out of spite.

I got to thinking maybe he was worried that I didn't enjoy it, and therefore he felt guilty for enjoying it. He was worried because he didn't know how I would react, and I realized then that he didn't enjoy hurting me... In some sick sense, I did enjoy it. But I would have enjoyed it more if we'd known each other and talked more.

* * *

As soon as I walk into the door I know attending Jasper Whitlock's party is a huge mistake. Altogether there is like a hundred people, most football players, some from Forks High, and some from opposing teams. I notice Jacob Black, the huge quarterback from La Push High, has invited most of his equally massive friends.

I follow Alice and Rosalie into the kitchen to get a drink. Someone behind me says in a deep voice, "Hey Bella, there's two hundred and six bones in the human body." I turn around, impressed by their knowledge and realize its Jacob. He smiles slyly and his teeth are radiantly white against his russet skin. "Want another one, baby?" he asks, leering at me in a very suggestive way.

I laugh. "W-what, Jake?" I ask, frowning. "That doesn't even make any sense."

He proceeds to follow me around the kitchen. "Yeah, but, you know, it does if you have a dirty mind..." I finally escape by grabbing a guy and using him as a human shield to get out of the crowded kitchen. That's when I realize, too lately, that the person I grabbed is none other than Edward Cullen himself.

A small gasp slips from between my parted lips. I hadn't assumed he'd be here at the party, considering he didn't know anyone. But it seemed he had decided to come after all.

I can feel myself going red. He looks at me for a moment, confused, and then realizes Jacob Black is standing right in front of him. "Stay away from Bella," he says to Jacob, without taking his green, penetrating eyes off of me. I realize that although his voice is very low and quiet, there is a threat evident in his tone.

"Who... the hell are you, exactly?" Jacob asks hoarsely, in a mocking tone.

Before I can hear his answer, I step around Edward and weave my way through the crowd, searching for any sign of Rosalie or Alice. I find Alice easily, sharing an armchair with Jasper Whitlock, sitting on his lap. I am moved when I notice their hands are tangled together and she's glowing. She seems so obliviously happy that she doesn't seem to notice all the footballers around them, drunk and being foolish.

I go to walk into the backyard and I catch the step and stagger forward, slipping on the wet grass as I go and subsequently hearing a few boys from the football team go wild. I feel my cheeks burning as I hear Emmett's booming laugh, realizing a moment too late that my skirt has been hitched up far enough for anyone to see, the top of my thighs and the lace panties I'm wearing showing. Oh God.

"Ouch," I say, standing up too fast on the wet grass and grabbing the closest thing I can find for support. Someone's arm. I look up and find myself face-to-face with Edward Cullen. For a moment we stand pressed together and I feel his hands on my waist, grabbing me before I can slip again, but to my relief he finally lets me go.

I look away from him, feeling myself going even redder than is probably possible for me. I realize we are standing underneath a canopy of trees in Jasper's quite large backyard and stars are leaking their way through the branches.

"It's a very beautiful evening, isn't it?" Edward says, gesturing toward the night. "Of course, with you in comparison, it's without..."

I didn't know what to say to that. I hear people laughing and talking, Emmett McCarty taking long sips of the beer he's holding in his hand. I wonder idly why Rosalie isn't out here with him, if wherever she is, she's okay. I meet Edward's gaze and realize he is waiting for me to say something, looking expectant.

"I-it is a very nice night," I agree lamely, looking away from him.

Edward bursts out laughing, a soft enchanting laugh. I catch his eyes and he smirks at me. I realize he's out of his usual charcoal suit and into a white cotton shirt, the collar unbuttoned and loosened enough that I can see the muscles in his neck, the hair sprouting lushly from his chest. I don't understand why he's laughing so, naturally, it makes me very uneasy.

"You've grazed your knee," he says. I blink, and realize he's looking down at my legs, smiling, appraising them. Before I can comprehend what he's doing, he takes my arm grimly and leads me back into the house. I look through the crowd as he pulls me along and see Rosalie at last, in her shimmery red dress, talking to a guy with short, spiky blond hair. At least she looks happy...

Edward opens a door from one of the rooms in the house, looking in, making sure it's all clear perhaps, then pulls me in before shutting the door behind us. I realize this room must be Jasper's. The floor is absolutely covered with sports magazines and the walls with posters of girls in scanty clothing. Edward is stroking my face, watching me take everything in.

I start to feel woozy as he leans forward and puts his mouth next to my ear. "I'm an alcoholic," he breathes into my ear, his voice rasping. I don't know if it's some kind of joke or not, but I see he's grinning broadly by the way the corner of his mouth is pulling upward. "And I'm very thirsty," he finishes, giving me a pleading look now, his brows furrowed.

I don't know what he means by this exactly, but then his hand slides under the end of my dress and up my thigh. His hand is as smooth and gentle as silk. My throat constricts and I try to back away, but my body only hits the door. I close my eyes, willing myself to think of nothing. I hear the loud thumping beats of music emulating from the stereo, the noise of cheering and laughter from through the thin plaster walls.

I open my eyes and realize Edward is kneeling down now, looking up at me, his hands at his sides. His hands slowly, carefully, touch one of my legs, following the outline of my calves and up to my knees.

"Don't try to fight it," he says, gently. "We're inevitable, love."

The friction of his hands warms my skin, and I tense as he leans forward and plants his lips just above my knee. He trails along my thigh with gentle, sometimes rough, kisses, his lips parting slightly and leaving my skin wet with the moisture of his breath.

The phrase, _kiss it better_, had never seemed so real, until now.

He lingers for a moment, placing his lips directly over the graze on my knee, the stinging becoming apparent, as he sucks it, his lips parting and tongue coming into contact with my skin...

My heart races and I realize my hands are shaking. I hold my breath, fearful that if I dare exhale something might be unleashed, a moan or a scream. The pressure on the skin of my knee is increasing with every suck and I can almost imagine blood seeping out, being extracted. I massage my eyes with my fingers as I realize the thought is so absurd...


	3. Mutt

**A/N:** All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer, of course. A big thank you to everyone for your reading, reviewing, alerting, and favoriting of this story. Words cannot explain how much it means to me! You are all so awesome. Hope you enjoy this chapter and that it isn't a little too weird. :)

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The next morning I enter the cafeteria and the whole room falls quiet. I guess Alice hasn't made it yet, but I see Rose sitting over by a table all alone, her hands on her forehead. "How much did you drink last night, Bella?" she asks apprehensively as soon as I'm seated next to her.

"I didn't drink anything," I admit, feeling oddly proud of that fact. It wasn't like I was some sort of saint or anything, but this explained everything; Rose had a perpetual hangover that was at its peak during first period.

She looks disappointed and almost guilty by this. "That Mike Newton was practically handing me free beer and cocktails all night."

I instinctively shudder at the thought; Mike Newton was the most persistent, annoying sleazebag of the school. He didn't care who the girl was, if she was in freshman year, if she had a boyfriend, he just wanted to have sex with her regardless. It turns out he tried the moves on Rose last night. Poor Rose.

"Besides, where were you last night?" she asks suspiciously, and my stomach automatically sinks.

I hadn't prepared for what I was going to say to her. Should I tell her the truth about being in Jasper's room with Edward Cullen? Yes. After all, she was the only one who knew about it, and it always made me feel better when I told her the truth. Besides, I sucked at lying anyway.

"I was maybe, um," I pause for a moment, staring down at my fingernails, "I was with Edward Cullen."

I didn't look up to see her reaction, but I thought I heard her gasp. "Do you actually like Edward Cullen, Bella?" she asks, to my surprise. My stomach tightens at the sound of his name.

I regard her anxiously. "He's sort of, um, beautiful..." I shrug.

She nods silently and I get the feeling she's trying her hardest to hide her disappointment or disgust in me. "Are you two together?" I think she notices my uneasiness at her question because she adds, "You two have been doing some pretty kinky shit together, Bella, by the sound of -"

Holy cow. "-Wait, please tell me you didn't just put Bella and kinky into the same sentence, Rose..." I pass my hands over my face, feeling my cheeks burning. This was embarrassing. No, worse than embarrassing; it was mortifying!

Rose in turn looks acutely embarrassed for asking. "You can't blame me, Bella," she says, lowering her voice, glancing over her shoulder at Alice who is now strutting over toward our table with Jasper following closely behind her. "How did it happen between you two anyway?" She leans forward in her seat. "You barely talk to each other..."

"It was all kind of... fast-paced," I admit reluctantly. "One moment we were just sort of talking in the bathroom, then the next moment, hands were going under clothes and..." I shake my head, trying to find the right words to explain. "He was kind of, biting and sucking my neck..." I falter, ending the discussion right then and there as Alice and Jasper take the two empty seats on my right.

"Morning," Alice says to us in a high-pitched squeal. She seems happier than she's ever been in a long time. Jasper doesn't say anything. He nods at both me and Rosalie, an unspoken hello.

Emmett McCarty is slowly creeping up behind Rose now. He jostles her chair and she gasps, clutching her hands to her chest. "You nauseate me," she says curtly when she discovers its Emmett. He feigns a look of hurt, then meets my gaze.

"Had a nice trip, Bella?" Emmett asks with an expression of mirth, taking the empty seat near Rose, clearly referring to my fall in Jasper's backyard last night. Oh crap. I knew he wouldn't let it go.

Rosalie gives him a look. "Don't be mean," she says with a note of warning in her voice.

Emmett reaches over and puts his arm around her shoulders, her back stiffening at his touch. "I wasn't. I was just illustrating how... funny it was." He smiles at her innocently, the dimples of his cheeks forming. "Bella has a nice trip and then Cullen swoops in like the easily pussy whipped gentleman that he is..." Great. Rosalie darts me a meaningful look at the sound of his name.

I force a smile, and say nothing, looking down at my tray of untouched food for a few minutes.

When I look over at Alice, I immediately regret it; Jasper is kissing her neck, muttering something low in her ear that thankfully I cannot hear. Alice's face is going pink with pleasure and she starts emitting high-pitched giggles at whatever it is he is saying to her. What is with today? Is it couples day or something?

I start gathering my stuff. Emmett is looking uncomfortable for some unfathomable reason. "Anyway," he begins, staring at Rosalie's lips with such a high level of attention that I feel almost as if I am intruding on two people clearly about to make-out. Yikes. I take the hint and pull my backpack over my shoulder, carrying my tray of food along with me.

In some sort of wretched sense, I feel slightly envious of both Rose and Alice, but ultimately I am grateful that things are starting to look up for them. I dump my tray of food into the trash, pausing as the doors of the cafeteria comes bustling open. Edward Cullen enters the cafeteria, once again impassive and cool, a shimmer of nervous laughter from a few girls at a lunch table breaking through the awful moment of silence.

He's making motions with his hands, patting his shirt and pockets. He finds what he's looking for, his cigarettes, pulls out the packet, selects one, and sticks it between his lips. It's hard to believe that this incredibly handsome Adonis is the very same man that had _me_ – average virginal Bella – in Jasper's room last night, sucking my grazed knee and making me feel simultaneously better. I guess it was something you'd never get used to.

He all of a sudden meets my gaze and my heart is racing. I pretend to be preoccupied with slipping my backpack off my shoulder, unzipping it and rummaging through it. I look up and there he is, Edward Cullen, looking right at me.

"Every part of your skin tastes so wonderful that I'm coming back for seconds," I hear him say, his voice so quiet that I wasn't sure if I had heard correctly or not. He leans against the wall, his fingers wrapped around his unlit cigarette, smiling crookedly.

"W-what did you just, um, say?" I ask, my voice shaking.

Edward looks suddenly apologetic. "I'm sorry, that was incredibly rude." He glances around us quickly, frowning, his brows furrowed. "Bella, could we take a walk?" he asks, to my surprise.

I hesitate. "Um, class starts in a few-"

"- Hey Cullen!" Emmett booms through our conversation, his voice echoing off the walls and resounding painfully in my ears. Edward swivels around at the sound of his name and looks at Emmett, his eyebrows raised. "You up for a game of baseball at lunch?"

"Absolutely," came Edward's resolute answer, his voice slightly muffled now by the cigarette he's placed between his lips. He looks back at me with an expression of urgency. "It'll only take a moment of your time, Bella..."

"Okay," I agree at last, reluctantly.

He takes my hand to my utmost surprise and I can almost hear the freshman year girls gasping and squirming in their seats. He leads me out of the cafeteria and into the hallway, where it's mostly empty apart from several students who are extracting their books from their lockers.

He takes his cigarette out his mouth with his free hand and stuffs it into his pocket. He turns and looks directly at me. "I apologize for coming off strong, but I believe it's the only way," he says, very sincerely. He raises a shoulder, then shrugs. "Besides, its the last year of school. I'll be damned if I don't get it out here in the open now..."

I'm speechless and I don't know what to say to that. He's looking at me as if he expects an answer, but I honestly don't know. The bell for second period begins to toll and students are beginning to file out of the cafeteria. I go to pull my hand out of his, but he's gripping it strongly.

He smiles at some kind of private joke that I don't get. "Haven't you heard that ditching is perfectly healthy every once in a while, Bella?" It sounded slightly patronizing, the way he said it.

I wasn't going to give in that easily. "Edward, didn't you just hear the bell for class?" I ask, my voice raising slightly, something that seemed to happen a lot whenever I was nervous or frightened. I look away quickly, over the crowd, hoping to see some sign of Alice or Rosalie.

He ignores me and changes the subject entirely. "Don't be offended, but you strike me as one of those people that are attracted to danger," he says. I glance over to see him studying me with curious eyes, gauging my reaction. "So... in a way, in all things considered, I would be in that category, correct?"

I didn't know where he was getting his information from, but that wasn't exactly true at all.

"Edward, what do you want from me?" I ask, resignedly. I feel as if I'm going to cry but I don't. It wouldn't be a good thing, crying in the school hallway. I'm not the kind of girl who enjoys attention being put onto her.

I think Edward senses this because he starts stroking my face. "I want you, Bella," he says, with a tone of such sincerity and urgency that it startles me. "I want you for always, days, years, eternity..." He looks at me desperately. "I want you to be _mine_."

Was this his own way of asking me out? I didn't know what to say to that. It all seemed so fast; I'd only started speaking to Edward Cullen – if you could even call it speaking – for barely two days. It didn't make any sense at all.

"Bella?" A boy's deep voice says from behind me and I turn, feeling almost immediately relieved as I realize Jacob Black is standing right there. Although he said that pitiful pick-up line last night at the party, it was still great to see him.

"H-hey Jake," I say weakly. I feel Edward squeeze my hand, bringing me back down into this current predicament, clearly waiting for me to respond to him in some way. "W-what are you doing here?" Jacob's school was at least a two hour drive from here, so it was very bizarre to see him, but wonderful none the less.

He smiles, a radiant smile that brightens his russet skin. "Well, you know, just thought I'd drop by," he shrugs, trying to seem suspiciously indifferent about the whole thing. He meets Edward gaze, a slightly frustrated look on his face. "Uh, Bella." He lowers his voice as if trying not to let Edward overhear him. "I need to talk to you, preferably right now..."

"Um, okay," I say a little too abruptly, hoping to get away from Edward for a moment or two to think. I turn and look at Edward who is staring at me intently. He lets go of my hand.

"Bella, I'll talk to you after school, love," he says quietly, leaning in and kissing my forehead. _Whoa, that was a little sudden. _I stare after his retreating form as he makes his way out the school entrance and into the parking lot.

I look back at Jacob and force a small smile. I hadn't noticed how dark his eyes are. They are big brown eyes like Bambi. There's a long moment of awkward silence, and then he suddenly says, "Um, Bella, this is like really weird..."

"What Jacob?" I ask, intrigued now.

He suddenly looks nervous. "At the party last night, you know, when I said that stupid joke and when Cullen, well, you know..." He looks at me and I nod. "Yeah, well, as soon as you walked away your boyfriend kind of told me-"

"-Jacob, Edward isn't my boyfriend," I say curtly.

"Right, well anyway, um, he kind of told me – and this is a direct quote – to 'stay away from his girlfriend otherwise he'll put me down like the mutt that I am'..."

It was a sock to the stomach. How dare he? He doesn't own me. "W-what, Jacob?"


	4. Unprepared Feelings

**A/N:** All characters once again belong to Stephenie Meyer. I checked my email and was so surprised that I had so many responses from my story, so a big thank you to everyone who is reading this and for favoriting, reviewing and alerting my story. It means so much to me that words cannot explain how much I appreciate it. Please keep them coming, you guys rock like Edward Cullen's socks! Hope you enjoy this chapter.

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I spent the whole of my Biology class replaying the conversation with Jacob Black in my head. I didn't know what to do about the whole thing; I wasn't certain if I should confront Edward about it, demand an explanation or an apology, or to just let it go. I spent my next class rehearsing my lines and what I could say to make things go for better, or worse. It just made me all the more anxious about confronting him.

After school I bustle out the entrance doors and instantly see Emmett and Rosalie near his Jeep, still in mid-conversation over the baseball game at lunch: "Next time it won't be the ball I hit, it'll be your head," I hear Rose say, looking annoyed. I'd never heard her say such things before so it shocks me. By the look on her face, it seems Emmett did something pretty bad to her, but he just laughs, unfazed.

"Whatever." They both see me rushing down the steps and Emmett puts his arm around her, Rose leaning her head onto his shoulder. "Rose thinks we cheated," he tells me, smiling.

Rosalie gives him a funny look. "Oh, I don't think it," she says, her eyebrows raised with a note of warning clear in her voice. "I know it."

He laughs, shaking his head. "Oh, come on," he says blithely. "We won fair and square. Of course Cullen was an advantage with his kick-ass running skills." He punches the air with his fist. "But hey, I'm dying for a rematch..."

Then Emmett does possibly the strangest thing imaginable and takes a flying leap onto Jasper's chest, who is leaning against Emmett's Jeep and talking to Alice, subsequently knocking the wind out of him and causing him to crash onto the asphalt. Emmett is in hysterics. Alice looks almost as if she's going to cry. "Poor Jazz," she says, wrapping her arms around him, trying to help him up.

That's when I see it; there's a small tear in his jeans, and the flesh of his knee is grazed, ripped apart, with red everywhere. Oh crap. My stomach lurches.

Emmett notices the wound a moment later. "We've got a litre of blood and guts spilling out over here," he booms ceremoniously to a few people in the lot. I start to feel very dizzy at his announcement. My ears are ringing and my head pounding.

At this very moment, Edward Cullen weaves through the crowd, looking fiercely determined for some unfathomable reason, his fists clenched. He kneels down on the asphalt and inspects Jasper's knee closely, the only person daring enough to go near it. "It isn't too deep," he tells him softly. "Go pay a visit to my father, Carlisle. He'll know what to do." Jasper tries to nod his agreement but it seems like it's too much effort for him.

Alice is staring at his face intently, worried. "Are you okay, Jazz?" she inquires, quietly.

He nods, trying to breathe slowly and carefully. "Yes, ma'am," he says finally, his voice coming out hoarse. Alice relaxes her tense muscles at his words. Rose looks at Emmett with hatred. Edward glances over at me from over his shoulder. There was no denying that I was impressed with how he reacted so helpfully to Jasper's injury, but I was still angry with him over the obvious threat he made to Jacob Black at the party last night.

I hold onto Emmett's Jeep for support, trying to steady my breathing. I'd always felt queasy at the mere sight of blood. I didn't realize Edward had come over to stand right near me. He leans against the side of the Jeep, smiling crookedly. "So, you feel nauseous at the sight of blood?" His green eyes are twinkling and even I can see that he's enjoying my discomfort. "Unfortunately for you, bloods the only thing that sets my soul alight." He makes a face. "Although, I'm sure you've already observed that by now. What an interesting combination we'll make..."

I ignore him and make a start with walking out the lot, his smile noticeably vanishing. I'm furious. My whole plan of confronting him over his conversation with Jacob Black went down the drain. It wasn't fair of him to speak to Jacob Black like that, even if Jacob did get on my nerves every now and then.

I hear tyres running over the asphalt and look behind my shoulder. Edward Cullen is driving up toward me in his silver, shiny Volvo. I try to quicken my pace and ignore it, looking straight ahead as he pulls up right next to me. "Would you like a ride?"

I hesitate. "Um, no thanks," I say finally, still not looking at him.

"Let me get this straight," I hear him say out the automatic window, a little louder than is necessary. "So it's a yes to kissing in the girl's bathroom and all of that other magnificent stuff... but catching a ride with the person you seem at least somewhat attracted to, it's a no?"

Every word he says is like a lure, a seduction. His voice is always soft and compelling, something you couldn't ignore even if you tried. It was hardly fair. I could only imagine how overwhelming he looked in the flesh and when I turn to face him, I am momentarily speechless. I can't see his eyes; he's wearing dark, tinted sunglasses now. His bronze, tousled hair is falling into his forehead from the wind blowing in from the open window and even in my annoyance I can't help but observe how handsome he is. It makes everything all the more worse.

"I'm not your girlfriend, Edward," I say at last, hurrying up my walk. "And I would appreciate it if you wouldn't tell people that."

It still didn't make any sense to me at all; what Jacob Black had said in the hallway. Why would Edward Cullen refer to me as his girlfriend? And why would he tell me that he wanted me and show interest in me? Of all the thousands of girls who would be willing to date him and even have sex with him, he chooses me? He could have at least chosen someone like Rosalie, someone who had experience in sexual situations.

Edward glances at me and raises his eyebrows. "Bella, I never referred to you as my girlfriend, per se," he explains, slowing the car. "I just expressed my concerns over the way he spoke to you." I still don't exactly know what he means by that, and he makes a face. "With a pick-up line as dull and indecent as that, it was practically an insult considering how vulnerable you are right now..."

I try my hardest not to laugh. "And telling me constantly how edible I am isn't?" I shake my head and sigh, trying to compose myself. "I'm not trying to be, um, mean or anything; I just don't like double standards."

"You're absolutely right, love," he says to my surprise, nodding in agreement. "I crossed the line there, but I was only simply telling you the truth..." He almost looks apologetic.

I don't know what to say to that so I just continue on walking, hoping he will get the hint and will drive off without me. Only he doesn't.

"I'll just follow you until you give in," he warns. I ignore him. He starts drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. It starts to bug me. I look over and he's looking right at me, smiling his vast smile.

"You'll crash the car," I tell him, gesturing to all the cars, some parked and some occupied with students who are now reversing out of their space in the lot.

He darts me a wry look. "Heaven forbid I should crash the car," he says softly.

I shrug, trying to seem indifferent. "It's your funeral."

He raises one eyebrow and smiles. "Will you cry?"

With a sigh I relent, climbing into the passenger seat and slamming the door shut. The wind leaking in through the window is chilly and I clasp my hands around my knees. I think Edward notices my discomfort because he leans forward and presses one of the buttons that closes the automatic window.

"Thank you," I say quietly, looking out the windows. Outside it's a colorful blur of green, blue and red. There is a long moment of uncomfortable silence where the only thing heard are the tyres running over the asphalt and the wind rushing past the car. Then, to my surprise, Edward pulls over on the side of the road and turns to face me, removing his sunglasses.

"Hmm. I could consider apologizing to Jacob Black if it makes you happy," he suggests, his eyebrows furrowed. "Only I don't think he'll be willing to forgive me so easily."

I nod, staring down at my lap. "You could at least try," I say at last.

Edward suddenly takes my hand and the movement is so unexpected that I recoil in my seat slightly. "Can _you _forgive me for how impulsively I behaved in front of him?" he asks and when I meet his eyes I realize he looks miserable. "To be honest, I was feeling jealous. I honestly don't think I can live without you." He lowers his voice. "And I won't let you live without me, love."

The intensity of his gaze unnerves me and for a moment I find that I cannot look away. He leans over toward me in his seat, so close now that our faces are barely three inches apart. The close proximity almost makes it hard to concentrate and once again I am riveted in my seat, holding my breath and waiting in anticipation for what will come next.

"I can't bear to be away from you any longer and keep distances," he says through the silence, his breath tickling my forehead. It comes out of his mouth absolutely flat, as though the words are somehow choking him. It's almost as if he is in pain, and I have this sudden intense need to comfort him, but I don't know how.

I lift my hand, slowly, cautiously, and touch his face. He flinches and I realize the gesture is just as unexpected for him as it is for me. I run my fingertips slowly across his jaw. The skin there feels like sandpaper, rough, as though he needs a shave. He takes my hand away from his face and holds it, leaning down to kiss my palm. I imagine kissing those lips in some wretched sense and it terrifies me.

As if reading my thought, he suddenly presses his lips to mine, an audible low groan escaping his throat, the sound making me feel very hot and I can feel my cheeks burning in response. I unbuckle my seatbelt, climbing over to his side and straddling him, Edward leaning back in his seat and taking me with him, gripping my hips strongly in his hands.

I didn't exactly know what I was thinking, what I was getting myself into, but all I knew was that I was enjoying it as much as he was. My body was tingling in places that I never even knew existed and I never knew someone was capable of rousing such strong emotions and sensations out of me.

I'd never even had a real boyfriend before, let alone make out with one.

My hands search blindly for the buttons of his shirt, finding them and shakily unbuttoning them, our lips parting momentarily as I run my hands down his warm, slightly hairy chest, Edward shuddering in response. He's breathing strenuously and he whispers, "You little indecent vixen," before starting to kiss my neck right in the very same place that he did in the girl's bathroom barely two days ago.

He starts scraping his teeth against the skin of my neck and my hands instinctively clench into fists. "P-Please don't," I say, my voice shaking. If I see any more blood, I'd be certain to faint. For a moment I think he isn't going to listen to me, but then he moves his face out from the crook of my neck and looks up at me, his brows furrowed in what? Confusion? Hurt?

"I-I mean, I still want you to keep kissing me," I say firmly, hurriedly, hoping he won't get the wrong impression. I run my fingers through his bronze, tousled hair, trying not to laugh as it sticks up in every possible direction.

He starts kissing me again, to my relief, my heart racing like a mad thing in my chest. He tastes sweet, fragrant and our lips move together in sync easily. I never thought this could happen to me, that I would ever be doing this and with someone as handsome as Edward. He groans again, another low noise from the back of his throat and my hands finally find the buckle of his trousers -

Oh crap. Out of the corner of my eye I see three large boys and a dog standing barely a few feet away from the car, clearly staring in at us and making obscene gestures with their hands. Holy cow. I reluctantly pull away from him, burying my face into the collar of his shirt and hearing Edward sigh as he turns to see what I was looking at. The boys start cheering and whistling and before I can comprehend what Edward is doing, he presses the button that lowers the automatic window.

"Would you mind?" Edward says loudly out of the window to the boys, a look of frustration clear on his handsome face. "We're trying to make love over here. I don't appreciate the intrusion."

I am speechless at his use of words. _Make love_? I'd never really thought of it as that before, but somehow his words do the trick and the boys amble away, still laughing. The air that rushes in from the window is soothing and chilly against my now-hot, sweat adhered skin and I run my hands through my hair, pushing the tangles of hair out of my face. I realize I am still directly on top of Edward, his hands still gripping my hips and you'd have to be blind to not see the tent in his trousers.

"Um" was all I could manage, feeling awkward and less sexual than ever before as I climb back into my seat and reattach my seatbelt. The rest of the drive home was very quiet and Edward is expressionless as we both mumble our goodbyes and I open the car door, hoping Charlie won't be home to notice the cheesy grin plastered on my face. It was then that I realized, despite everything that happened before and how peculiar and eccentric he was, that I possibly had a crush on Edward Cullen.


	5. Beaten

**A/N:** All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you all so much for your reviews and kind words, it's always appreciated. I'm terribly sorry it took me so long to update. I hope this chapter is worth the waiting. Hope you enjoy :)

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I was nervous about attending school this morning. I just didn't know what to do after last night and the whole make-out session between Edward and I in his Volvo. I enter the hallway, my body still shivering despite the several layers of clothes I'm wearing, my hair heavy and tangled from the wind. I turn the dial and pull open my locker, stuffing my backpack into it, thinking about nothing in particular.

Someone lifts all of my hair up into their hands and kisses my neck. "Don't," I say a little too loudly, causing a few girls from the lockers next to me to stare sceptically. I turn and realize its Edward. I sigh and push my hair behind my back.

I can feel myself blushing. I didn't know how I was supposed to act after what happened last night in Edward's car. Although it was very enjoyable, it just made me feel disgusting and awkward. I'm hoping he'll take the hint and will leave me alone for a few minutes but he leans against my locker, watching me. I try to ignore him the best I could. It's a little hard when you know some beautiful Adonis is watching your every move. Darn lockers. I try to pick up my heavy Biology book, but it's too high up on the shelf. Someone's hand grabs it for me. _Edward_.

"I'll carry your books, love," he says and although it was possibly the most childish thing to do right now, I push his hand away and take my book from him.

I shake my head, no. "Don't Edward," I say, rummaging through my locker and not looking at him. I didn't know how to act around him after what we did yesterday, frankly. Did this mean that we were exclusively dating, or was it just a one time thing? Was I meant to let him carry my books? Was that something a boy did for a girl he likes and made-out with?

I can only envision the hurt look on his face. He makes a soft grunting noise and then he walks away, his shoes squeaking. I didn't dare turn in his direction and look at him. I knew I wouldn't like what I saw. I knew I'd relent and go rushing into his arms. I knew it was completely cruel of me to treat him in this way, but at that moment, I didn't care.

In Biology class everyone is already seated and waiting for the teacher, Mr. Banner, who hasn't yet arrived. I sit by the window. The rain has started pouring and the wind leaking through the window is cold and chilly. The rain rapping on the glass makes it feel as if I'm sitting in a car wash. I disregard preparing my desk for the lesson for a moment and look outside the window.

Edward Cullen is leaning against the hood of his Volvo, his forehead in his hands and face shielded, his tousled hair dark and wet from the sheets of rain. I feel a pang of internal sadness over this. What is he doing standing outside in the rain? Why isn't he in class? I didn't see him for the rest of the day. I couldn't help thinking of him during my classes, wondering if he was okay, but I knew he could take care of himself. Deep down, I knew I hurt him. I just didn't really want to think about it.

After school, I follow the students who are arduously rushing to get out of the hallway and into the parking lot. I automatically look around for his car. I see it over by the gates. I can't tell if he's already in it or not. I take a deep breath before making my way over to it. The automatic window suddenly scrolls down.

"Would you like a ride, hitch-hiker?" I hear him ask, to my surprise. I wasn't so certain if he would be angry with me or not over how I treated him so cruelly today. I climb into the seat, throwing my backpack down under my feet.

I look over at Edward, flustered. He looks as handsome as ever before, but that isn't the reason I cannot look away. His lip is bleeding profusely and raised slightly against his light skin. His knuckles, which are clenched tightly around the steering wheel, are grazed with little cuts and covered in dirt and grime. He barely seems concerned at all, starting the ignition and driving awkwardly out of the parking lot.

There's an unbearable moment of long silence where I just stare at him, worried. I wonder if he'll tell me what happened to him, but I have a few hunches. It looks as if he has been involved in a fight, although I'm not sure who with.

"What happened to you, Edward?" I ask at last, my voice shaking for some unfathomable reason.

Edward is expressionless as he turns his face in my direction to look at me. "This." He runs a hand over his face and winces. "I have a very hard time controlling my temper, Bella..."

"What happened?" I lean closer toward him in my seat, wishing that I could somehow provide comfort in some form or gesture. "Did you get into a fight?"

He startles me by laughing, daubing his bloody lip with the sleeve of his suit jacket. "No," he says, his voice dropping so low that I can barely hear him properly.

I put my hand on his arm. It seemed like the right thing to do. "Can you please pull over?" I ask, hoping to get the chance to really talk to him about all of this.

He darts me a look, but I can't read it. "Why?"

I don't say anything, just look at him, waiting. He sighs and turns into a private driveway, cutting the engine and folding his hands in his lap. I go to touch his face and he takes my hand and holds it in his. He doesn't say anything, just stares down at our hands. Great.

"Um, you weren't in class?" I prompt, hoping he'll help me out.

"No. I couldn't tolerate listening to Mrs. Goff's voice any longer," he says and I am immediately thankful that he's taking the initiative to speak. "I'm tired of learning about molecules and the square root of pi..." The way he says it, he sounds bitter. Mrs. Goff has normally been a very kind and understanding teacher. It wasn't usual of her to be malicious to someone.

I think about this for a moment. "Did she give you a detention?" I ask, confused.

Edward is stroking my hand with his fingertips. "No." He shrugs and makes a face. "I didn't feel like class today so I ditched. I was in my car, listening to a CD. It's amazing how music is an expressional outlet for anger." That didn't make any sense to me at all. I was sure I didn't make it up, I wasn't hallucinating. He wasn't in his car; he was standing out in the rain. His clothes and hair are still moderately damp.

There's a moment of silence. Then I ask again, "So did you get into a fight?"

He smirks my now favorite crooked smile. "With myself, there's the irony of it..." I'm confused. "Are you familiar with that brick wall outside building three?" He asks and I nod, faintly remembering.

There was a wall closed off from the school where students would often sneak off to, to have cigarettes or to make-out with each other without teacher supervision. This still didn't explain anything though.

"I hit the brick wall. It was very irrational, but it was the only thing to make me feel better." He leans closer toward me in his seat, raising a hand to stroke my hair. I cringe inwardly at the image of Edward hurting himself by throwing his fists at the wall and then feel really bad inside; it was over how I reacted to him this morning, no doubt. "I was very... paranoid, you could say. After this morning I assumed you wouldn't want to speak with me ever again." He looks miserable as he says the words, the blood on his lip and grazed hands enhancing that.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out quickly, shaking my head ashamedly. "I didn't realize it would hurt you so much if I didn't let you carry my books."

Suddenly everything seemed to fall into place, and I immediately felt guilty for causing him pain.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I just thought I'd illustrated to you earlier how..." he pauses, brushing his fingertips lightly against the skin of my neck, "..._ hard_ it is for me to be away from you. How _hard_ it is to keep distance from you." There's something there in his voice, a hidden meaning almost, something accusatory in his tone. He regards me coldly. "Bella, do you not understand my feelings for you at all?"

The question startles me and I have to think about it for a moment. What was I supposed to say to that? That it was very unusual for such a handsome, but peculiar boy like Edward to show me so much attention? Boys in my grade hardly looked in my direction, even. "It doesn't make any sense for you to like me – or want me – so much, like you say you do," I admit reluctantly.

Edward closes his eyes. He looks as if he is trying to breathe slowly and calmly. "Wrong answer," he says emphatically. He opens his eyes and turns away from me, frowning, switching on the ignition. I don't say anything else to him on the ride to Charlie's and he doesn't speak to me either.

I could tell he was angry. More than angry however; he was furious. I didn't understand it at all. He asked a question and I gave him my truthful answer. He doesn't even look at me as he pulls into Charlie's driveway. It's starting to make me very angry.

"Edward, will you say something?" I demand through the silence. We've taken to sitting in silence in my driveway, Edward looking out the window.

He raises one eyebrow. "Bella, there's nothing left to say."

What happened next was something that I would never let myself forget. I unbuckle my seatbelt and I grip his neck firmly in my hand, lunging right at him and biting his neck, hard. I knew it wasn't as hard as he did it to me, there was no blood visible, only a few red marks from my teeth. All the while I practically heard Rose - always the experienced one when it comes to boys and relationships - in my head saying: "You have to take the initiative and bite him back, Bella."

Holy cow.

Edward doesn't say anything as I sit carefully back into my seat. He just watches me, looking a little taken aback by the whole thing. I can feel myself going red. What is wrong with me?

"Well," he finally says at last. His voice is quiet. "That was certainly pleasant." He looks pleased with himself.

I look away from him, burying my face into my hands._ Oh God. _

What has Edward Cullen turned me into? Some erratic, crazy harebrained girl (much like my mother was at my age)?

I grab my backpack and open the car door, hopping out. Edward leans over in his seat as I close it. "Next time, I'd rather do the assaulting, love." He was still smiling broadly as he drove out of the drive way, his car gliding around the bend and out of sight.

As if things couldn't get all the more mortifying, I realize Charlie is in the lounge room, watching the game. His cruiser wasn't in the driveway. "Is that you, Bells?" he calls as I shut the front door. He didn't sound suspicious or as though he caught me outside in Edward's car so it relaxed me a little.

"Yeah, dad," I say loudly, going straight up to my room and putting my backpack on my bed. I sit down on my pillow, clasping my arms around my legs, thinking. What did I just do? Edward didn't seem disgusted by the whole thing anyway; he actually seemed comforted by it in some kind of perverse way. I think I was even a little consumed by the idea of someone like Edward having such strong interest in me. It made me feel thrilled, and wonderful inside.

There's a loud thumping noise coming from the front door and I beat Charlie to it. I realize its Billy Black, Jacob's father and Charlie's best friend. I hold the door open for them as Jacob wheels Billy up. He doesn't look at me. Once Billy has made it safely up the threshold, he wheels himself up into the lounge room where Charlie is already seated watching the game. Jacob turns his back on me as he dashes back over to their car. I follow him.

Jacob Black looks so different now that I hardly recognize him. He's caked with blood, his left cheek yellow tinged and raised slightly. It looks as if someone has beaten him to a pulp with their fists. Poor Jacob. He muffles a sniffle and tears are streaming down his cheeks. I go to stand near him and he recoils. "Just stay away from me, Bella," he says, indignantly. His hands are trembling.

I ignore it. "Jacob, what happened to you?"

"Bella, I said leave me the hell alone!" He says it between clenched teeth. It was like a sock to the stomach. He starts sauntering away from me but I catch his arm.

I force him to look at me. "Jacob, what is wrong with you?"

Charlie comes bustling outside, his forehead scrunched comically as he looks between me and Jacob. "What's going on here, Bells?" he asks, looking at me sharply.

I let go of Jacob's arm reluctantly and he runs into the house without another word. What was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? I realize in turn my hands are shaking and my teeth are chattering from the chilly wind. Charlie wraps his arms around me, warming me, an unexpected gesture.

"Come on, Bells," he says, veering me toward the house. "Boys will be boys. Always remember that." I am in shock. Jacob has never reacted this way toward me before. Something is definitely bothering him. And I think I already knew what- or _who_- it was.


	6. Acceptance

**A/N:** Again, all characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I'm messing with them. A massive thank you for your reviews and kind words and for reading this story. I'm so surprised that you actually like my writing and story. Well, here's another chapter. Hope you enjoy.

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I was still confused about what happened with Jacob.

I guess, in reality, I knew what happened; I just didn't want to believe it. It wasn't merely a coincidence that both Edward and Jacob had bruises and other bodily inflictions. I just couldn't wrap my head around Edward doing something like that. He certainly didn't seem like the type.

Edward always seemed thoughtful.

It didn't make any sense; I'd seen Jacob Black without a shirt on a few times and he really was well-built. Not that I was looking too hard or anything. He'd often carry heavy loads into the kitchen when Billy Black was staying for the evening to watch baseball games. It was pretty impressive...

And then there was Edward.

Edward certainly was taller, but it just didn't seem logical that he would get into a fight with Jacob. I was certain Jacob could easily cripple him, but then again, I didn't know how Edward fought. And I wasn't the kind of person who wanted to.

Violence was something I was completely opposed to. Even imagining Jacob Black and Edward fighting terrified me to the core. A sickening shiver passed through me that had nothing at all to do with the chilly Forks weather.

I arrived early in the parking lot. It was still slightly dark and the asphalt was still wet from the morning rain. I was surprised to find Edward Cullen already by his car. I knew he was smoking. For some reason, his smoking never bothered me. In a way, it was fascinating to me, having the opportunity to watch him relieve some of his anxieties by smoking a cigarette.

"You really should consider quitting, you know..."

Edward swivels around at the sound of my voice and smirks, a trail of gray smoke drifting from his nostrils. "What?" he asks quizzically, squinting at me through the haze of his cigarette smoke. "Is smoking bad for me or something, love?" He throws his cigarette butt onto the wet asphalt.

And then, to my shock, he kissed me.

Edward, when kissing me, has this habit of putting his hands all over my face and stroking my hair. I absolutely loved it. Usually I was very nervous with the prospect of kissing someone, even dating someone seriously as I'd never had a boyfriend before. But Edward made it seem so easy, as easy as breathing.

I felt like I could kiss him for years and never get sick of it. I wondered if it was the same for Rosalie or Alice, with Emmett and Jasper.

Edward's tongue went straight in and for a moment I didn't know what to do. But, like everything else, these things usually sort themselves out I guess. Edward tastes like Listerine and cigarettes. It's something I have pathetically begun to associate with him. He didn't even seem concerned that his lip would have stung from the crushing impact. He groans, a low pleasant sound from the back of his throat and my hands blindly search their way, running my fingers through his stiff, thick bronzed hair.

Our lips finally part and then my heart sinks. It was difficult to go any further than that because we were in public in the school parking lot and I was afraid we would get into trouble by a teacher or the principle. Still, it didn't stop me from enjoying it.

I felt so in touch with Edward physically, it was bizarre. I felt like simply by looking at him, I wanted to attack him and comfort him with kisses and hugs; I'd never felt that way before, about anyone.

Edward moves away from me and leans against his car, propped up on his elbows. "That was certainly one of the top ten moments we've shared together, love..."

I'm burning up with curiosity. "You have a list of our best moments together?"

"Not on paper." He looks acutely embarrassed for mentioning it. "Mentally compiled from memory."

"What's our number one moment?" I ask, intrigued now.

He looks away from me for a minute. "It was when we were both in seventh grade and we had the same gym class. I was sitting on the bleachers and your team was up playing volleyball..."

At the mention of gym class, I shudder. I'd always been extremely bad at playing sport, not to mention I had no eye-hand coordination whatsoever. Every time I did play, it usually resulted in injury. I was surprised it was even on his list.

He laughs at some joke that I don't get. I'm suddenly nervous. "You hit the ball and it came flying into my direction." He shakes his head, smiling wryly. "You hit me in the face. All the while my only coherent thought was: that's my girl."

Of course, I remembered it. Before I could comprehend what was happening, Jessica Stanley hit the ball in my direction over the net. Perhaps she knew how mortifyingly bad I was at sport so she used my weakness to her advantage. I can even remember the expression on her face, how she enjoyed my discomfort. I hit the ball with my wrists with all the strength I could manage and it went ricocheting into the direction of the team on the bleachers.

I remember it hit Edward's face so hard that it left his jaw pink against his light skin. He caught the ball between his fingertips in time before it rolled underneath the bleachers and he looked flabbergasted, staring back at me. I felt like I could have died right there and then. I thought it was some sort of crime for someone as handsome as Edward Cullen to even be looking in my direction. He tossed the ball back to me, underhand, and thankfully I caught it, sparing myself even more guilt and embarrassment.

"Magnificent hit," he said to me softly, his voice so gentle and encouraging that it left me dazed momentarily. I turned back to my team, noticing in time the disappointed look on Jessica Stanley's face. I knew she was jealous. I remember feeling such a huge wave of adrenaline that I started putting more effort into the game then, despite how terrible I was. I never thought Edward would even remember that. I would have preferred he didn't.

He takes my hand to my surprise. His hand is icy cold. "Don't be embarrassed," he says softly. "It was the first moment that I realized that you knew I existed..."

I nod, trying to conceal my embarrassment. "So, what's another one on your list?" I ask. I wasn't really certain if I wanted to know, but it felt necessary.

He looks as though he's debating whether to tell me another one or not. "Don't be offended but do you sleep in the library?" The question confuses me and I make a face. Edward chuckles, a soft enchanting laugh. "You spent a lot more time in there than a sane person probably should..."

I'm offended by this. I take my hand away from his, thinking for a moment. Oh God. "How would you know how long I've spent in the library unless you were watching me?" It's Edward's turn to make a face, looking acutely embarrassed. "Holy cow. How long _have_ you been watching me in the library?"

Edward shrugs, trying to seem indifferent. "Just the past couple of years."

I'm furious. "Why didn't you say hello to me?"

"You were so peacefully involved in Charlotte Bronte and Shakespeare. I didn't want to break your concentration." Edward combs his fingers through his bronze, tousled hair, looking frustrated. "Besides, you looked exceptionally beautiful when your mind was elsewhere..."

I can't help myself from smiling. No one had ever called me beautiful before, except maybe my mother and Charlie, but parents are sort of obliged to say all of that to their daughters. Edward is looking down at his sneakers, so he didn't notice it. His lip is purple tinged, but not as serious as it looked a few days ago. His hands are clean and pink slightly from the cold, but it looks as if the grazes are slowly starting to heal. I wondered idly how Jacob looked in comparison. I really had to raise the subject sooner or later, I just wasn't sure how to without seeming like I was blaming him or was disgusted by him.

I hesitate. "Um, Jacob Black was over at my house with his father Billy," I begin quietly, looking down at my fingernails.

There's a moment of silence. I look up at Edward. He looks confused, squinting at me. "And this concerns me, why?" he asks, patting the pocket of his suit. He produces his crumpled cigarette packet, selecting a cigarette. For a moment I think to just maybe drop it, but I desperately need to know the truth.

"Jacob looked as if he was in a fight. He had bruises and cuts similar to yours..." I gesture toward his handsome face, my hands noticeably shaking.

Edward isn't looking at me. He has a cigarette between his lips, his hands cupped together and trying to light the end. The moist wind keeps dousing the match and he looks annoyed.

"I'm not blaming either of you," I say abruptly, trying to read his face for any giveaway sign. The only expression I can decode is relief now that his cigarette is finally lit. He takes a deep drag and exhales, the scent of the smoke strong and burning my nostrils. I look away from him. "I was just wondering if something might have happened between you two." I finish at last.

"I was afraid you might ask that," he says finally. I look over at him. His green eyes are scrutinizing me, gauging my reaction. "I feel very... protective toward you, Bella." He leans closer toward me, his gaze overwhelming. "So, naturally, anything unpleasant that somebody says about you, I'll make it my number one priority to confront them."

I nod, thinking this through for a moment. "So Jacob Black said something about me?" I ask, uncertain if I want to know exactly what it was. Was it one of the worst names in the book? Something that Edward was afraid might hurt me and puncture my already low self-confidence?

Edward suddenly looks miserable.

I take a deep breath, bracing myself. "How bad was it, Edward?" I ask, nervous now. "And don't try to spare my feelings and all of that other crap..."

Edward takes another drag of his cigarette, his fingers trembling. "He might have said..." he pauses, not daring to meet my gaze.

I lean in closer, waiting in anticipation. Something Jacob has said has obviously hurt Edward deeply. In turn I feel like I want to hurt Jacob for this, maybe even kill him or pulverize him into a hamburger, if that was even ever possible for me.

Edward finally meets my eyes, his eyebrows furrowed. "Bella, do you like Jacob Black?" he asks gravely to my absolute surprise.

"Not particularly." I shrug, trying to find the correct words. "Sometimes he can be painfully annoying and, other times, he's all right. We're not really friends. Why?" Edward looks slightly relieved now, as though I'm excusing him for the fighting. "That doesn't mean you have the right to hurt him, Edward..."

He nods. "I know." His voice is so quiet that I can barely hear him. "And it'll never happen again," he says firmly. "And I'll never fail you again..." He looks in my eyes directly as he says this, my heart racing in reaction.

My body immediately feels lighter, as though some kind of weight that has been bearing me down has been removed. "So what exactly did he say, Edward?" I ask gently. Edward sighs.

"He might have said that you..." He looks away from me, staring down at the cigarette he's holding between his fingers. "... are in love with him."

In some wretched sense I feel like laughing. "Definitely not, Edward," I say, unable to contain my laughter. "That's absurd. He's so egotistical..." I shudder at the thought of kissing Jacob, of kissing those lips. I could only imagine kissing Edward, as bizarre as that sounded. With Jacob, it would have seemed like something completely different, as though we were two opposites. I don't think I could ever see Jacob Black in that way.

Edward stares at me, and then bows his head. "I thought maybe it was true." His voice shakes. I put my hand on his arm. "You certainly respond to him differently..." Edward finally smiles, as though realizing how stupid it all is, but his eyebrows are still pulled together and so he looks worried.

I realize I have to say it sooner or later. Even thinking about it makes me feel nervous and queasy.

I'm in love – at least I_ think_ I am (and I honestly hate to admit it).

I'm beginning to realize that Edward Cullen makes me feel different inside. It's as if all the awkward things I do or say mean nothing to him. He still thinks I'm beautiful, even though I feel like the most hideous, inexperienced girl inside. I could only imagine how hard it must have been for Charlie to admit it and ask for my mother's acceptance to marry him. He must have been practically squirming in his seat. I'd inherited Charlie's self-conscious ungracefulness and in this moment I really despised that fact.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to look directly into Edward's eyes. "Edward, I'm, um, I think... if we got to know each other better that... I could grow to love _you_."


	7. She said that she loves me?

******Disclaimer: **All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I hope I didn't let you down by doing this, but I decided to try an Edward Cullen POV. Please don't hesitate to tell me if I failed miserably in the attempt, I'm sure I did. I hope you enjoy this chapter and a billion thank you's for reading and reviewing this, favoriting and alerting. It means so much. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

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**ECPOV:**

Clearly I heard wrong. Clearly I conjured this whole damned thing inside my head. I pull over and just in time I look in her direction to see the abashed expression on her face. I lean over and kiss those lips, like a thief stealing kisses from a poor, innocent meek little girl.

_She said that she loves me._

I wanted so desperately for this to evolve into something more, but it would be wrong considering her father's rusty black cruiser is conspicuously parked in the driveway. I particularly don't enjoy the thought of having Chief Swan's handgun pressed against the nape of my neck for indecently assaulting his only daughter so I reluctantly pull away from her, starting the ignition.

"I'll see you tomorrow, love," I say weakly, shuddering at the unfavourable idea of not seeing her for a long and unbearable twelve hours until tomorrow morning at school.

I stomp on the accelerator; probably a little too harder than intended and my car goes flying forward around the bend, running bumpily over the asphalt. I push the button that lowers the automatic windows; feeling simultaneously alleviated as the breeze comes blowing in, always cold and biting, onto my face.

_She said that she loves me. _

All my concerns over Jacob Black and inappropriate pick-up lines, all of that, is now diminutive now that I know clearly where I stand with her. For some unfathomable reason, she loves me too...

I jostle the gear into park as I arrive at my house, purposefully taking the longest time imaginable to gather my cigarettes and backpack before climbing out of the car. My father, Carlisle, has already arrived home earlier than usual, his glistening black Mercedes parked in the exact spot my mother's car used to regularly be.

I glance behind me, checking the coast is clear, before strutting over to it, peering in through the tinted window of the passenger's side. He's obviously already inside with my mother, doing God knows what. I hold the sharp, pointy end of my key between my fingers and near my knuckles before jabbing it into the shiny veneer of his Mercedes, walking slowly as the key scrapes along the paint. I reach the end of the door and step back, taking an appreciative look at my handiwork.

The sharp point of the key has penetrated the surface of the paint, causing a long white scratch along the door. I immediately have a sudden pang of guilt over this. It was very irrational, but at the same time I found it very humorous. I could only imagine the forlorn expression on my father's face as he discovers someone has damaged his poor, beloved machine.

_She said that she loves me._

I put my key into my pocket, quickly destroying any evidence as I enter the house. Through the long hallway I can hear the clatter of silverware in the kitchen and some low mumblings happening between my father and my mother. Our hallway is covered in framed photographs of some facade of a happy family that I didn't even know. I particularly despised the ones of me and my father, smiling and embracing each other over the mahogany piano in the dining room. It always brought back the unpleasant memories of when my father actually cared about what I was doing with my life.

I cautiously enter the kitchen, squinting my eyes in case I witnessed something remotely sickening. My mother is deeply engrossed in her baking, a tray of already cooked wholemeal muffins on the basin and cooling. The sickening part is the fact that my father has his head between the crook of my mother's neck, deeply immersed in pleasing her.

My mother, Esme's, long brown hair is pinned back into a rather severe-looking bun and she acknowledges me by nodding her head slowly, without looking away from my father, who resumes kissing and biting her neck passionately. Although it did disgust me, I had to confess it was a relief to see that they still held that same level of adoration toward each other after nearly fifteen years of marriage.

I clear my throat loudly, causing my parents to spring apart from each other. Carlisle regards me with a severe stare. "I didn't hear you come in, Edward," he says, looking down at his work shoes now while my mother ambles over toward me, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

"How is my dear son?" she asks, carefully air kissing my left cheek. She lingers, smiling warmly, running her thumb against my lip where the wound from Jacob's fist is poorly conspicuous. "Did you apologize to the poor boy?"

My mother has been adamant on me making amends with Jacob Black after the whole fighting incident over my Bella. I'd rather suffer a long painful death than apologize to that mongrel. Without providing an answer, I hand my coat to Esme and she takes it from me, hanging it up on the coat rack by the front door.

Carlisle looks uncomfortable. "Didn't have a very good day," he says, assessing my dismal demeanour.

I silently mull over the events of today. My Bella had told me that she loves me, although I wasn't absolutely certain I believed her or not. It seemed irresponsible. Surely she didn't know what she was saying. I had to compose myself regardless, keep myself in check. It felt as if I had plunged from a great height, my stomach dropping out from my chest when she said those three words.

Any normal, decent human being would have told her that she was wrong, convince her that she could never love someone so monstrous. Instead, I found myself kissing those appetizing lips, savouring the sweet taste of her. And she had so eagerly responded, running her all too willing fingers through my hair.

I look at Carlisle. I wonder what he sees, what expression he reads on my face right now. Am I happy? Disappointed? Ecstatic? "Good is certainly an understatement considering the day I've had," I say at last.

Before I am able to hear his response, I make my way up the staircase and into my bedroom. I shut the door behind me, sliding my backpack off my shoulders and setting it directly in the middle of my bed. My room is, without a doubt, the untidiest room in the house. Esme has tried to sneak her way in from time to time, when she presumed I was out, drawing open my lace curtains and attempting to mask the cigarette smell. She didn't approve of my smoking, but I never exactly took her concerns into consideration.

I lay out on my leather sofa, stretching my legs, my hands clasped around my middle. This sofa was simply too comfortable. I almost liked it more than I liked sleeping in my own bed. I could only imagine how much more peaceful it would be if my Bella was lying right beside me. I imagined her sleeping, the flowing rhythm of her breathing, the way her chest rises and falls with every inhale and exhale. The way her dark hair flowed graciously below her shoulders, aligning the soft, lightness of her collarbone.

And I would hover over her, watching her being submerged into her dreams, every expression of worry crinkling her forehead and every smile brightening her beauty and smooth, pale skin. I would fulfil her darkest desires and protect her from any harm that crossed her.

I realize I've forgotten to lock the bedroom door and Carlisle comes bustling in, intruding me from my magnificent thoughts, his arms crossed. I sit up on the sofa, the springs squeaking. He doesn't look very happy at all. When I think about it, it's bizarre that Carlisle and I even share the same gene pool. We have nothing in common, except for the fact that I have a morbid fascination with watching him help patients undergo surgical operations at his work. He massages his eyes with his fingertips, scowling.

"Can I help you with anything, father?" I ask amiably, politely.

This question pushes him over the edge. He starts pacing back and forth around my room, then turns to face me directly. "Edward, did you have something to do with the scratch that is now on my car?"

I didn't prepare beforehand an excuse or explanation. I stare at Carlisle, trying to play the innocent victim card. "I don't know what you're talking about," I reply quietly, hopping off my sofa and delving through my backpack. It was a necessary distraction. I find my packet of cigarettes. My own personal choir is now singing hallelujah in my head and I can't contain a smile at the sound.

"It wasn't there before, Edward," Carlisle interrupts and the choir comes to an abrupt end. "I would have noticed it at the hospital; I would have reported it to the security guards."

"I don't know, Carlisle."

I knew how to make him leave me alone for good. I knew the lone word I had to say for him to leave me in peace and not question me further. It was a low blow and quite an inconsiderate one to make.

I force myself to look at him, to look into those understanding, gray eyes that I despise so much. "_Elizabeth," _I say emphatically and, with that name alone, his whole body stiffens underneath the layers of his clothing; an intended reaction.

He opens his mouth, daring to say some remark, perhaps even ground me for the rest of my existence, but at that moment I don't care. I ignore him, drawing open my window and looking out over the woods. I faintly hear his footsteps and then my door closes. Absolute, peaceful silence now.

_She said that she loves me_.


	8. Delightful thoughts of his Bella

**A/N: **All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you so much for your reviewing of my story and I'm relieved you thought I did okay with Edward's POV. I've decided to do more chapters in his point of view, because it's neccessary to the story and how his family life is at home. Hope you enjoy this chapter :) And please don't forget to let me know your thoughts. Thanks so much for reading.

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_My Bella..._

I pull her to me, savouring the fragrant smell and feel of her soft hair. My fingertips linger momentarily on the light, warm skin of her neck, marvelling every delicate crease of her flesh before taking the skin in my mouth. I part my lips an inch wider, slipping my tongue out and running it across her flesh. Her skin doesn't taste bland; she tastes sweet, delightful...

My stomach grumbles noisily.

My mind has been so consumed with the thought of my Bella that I'd forgotten to eat dinner. Only eating was the last thing to come across my mind at present; _She said that she loves me._

I reluctantly roll off my leather sofa and onto my feet. It's absolutely dark in my room now. I didn't realize how much time has passed since Carlisle left me all alone to bathe in my glorious thoughts, but now it's all becoming apparent. The illuminated red numbers on my alarm clock read 10.35p.m. I open my door slowly, peering through the crack. The light in the kitchen is still on, still glowing faintly in the hallway. My stomach makes another grumbling sound and I conclusively decide to make myself some dinner because of it.

I creep down the staircase, my sneakers squeaking with every step. The last thing I need right now is to run into Carlisle of all people. I knew he'd still be furious at me over what happened with his beloved car this afternoon. I peer around the corner, the sight of my mother coming into view. I certainly didn't expect to see her awake and in the kitchen at this hour of the evening tonight. I assumed she'd be upstairs in her room with my father, mulling over the various ways they could punish me over damaging Carlisle's car.

It was very common to find my mother in the kitchen, of all places, resting on one of the many vinyl stools placed near the counter. I presumed cooking was her personal way of relieving her frustrations of married life, and life in general. I never questioned her over it, and she never brought it to light.

We often saw each other in the kitchen well after dark and we'd occasionally engage in casual conversation over the bizarre events that happened during the days. This time, however, was different. This time I didn't particularly enjoy our meeting in the kitchen. For the first time, I recognized the hurt on her inviting face. Something was definitely on her mind.

"Is Carlisle not home?" I ask, opening the refrigerator door and searching for something remotely edible to eat for dinner.

I glance over in her direction in time to see her dabbing the moisture from underneath her eyelids with a piece of tissue. The sight infuriates me. Carlisle hasn't been home a lot lately and I can discern that it's severely upsetting Esme.

"Oh, no," she replies, attempting to keep her voice light but she fails. "He's working late again. He called earlier to say he'll be home after midnight. He also said he'll be waiting to speak with you first thing in the morning before school." She doesn't quite look me in the eyes as she says this, as though she's terrified of revealing such things.

I disregard searching for something to eat and move over toward her. I didn't understand my father at all. It's another one of those mysterious oddities about him. Having a wife like Esme, who's so genial – why wouldn't you long to spend every waking moment with her, rather than working tirelessly into the morning hours for some tedious job?

When I had my Bella's hand in matrimony, I wouldn't dare miss the chance to see her every hour or so. I couldn't even bare to be away from her as it is. I found it not only physically painful, but mentally. My energy long abandoned me after our separation and I felt I could literally gag if I ate anything. I plop down on the empty stool next to her. The vinyl makes a squeaking sound as I sit. My mother still doesn't look at me. She keeps her eyes resolutely planted on the tissue in her hands.

I hesitate. "I don't mean to pry, but may I ask why you're crying?"

I know she won't entirely divulge to me what's concerning her, but the efforts worth it regardless. Thank goodness, she clearly values my sanity because she finally looks at me. She smiles warmly. "Nobody eats my food anymore," she says offhandedly.

I am mystified by this. "You're upset because we don't eat much of your cooking?" It didn't seem reasonable, something she would so openly be crying over. I wasn't that naive to believe it.

She laughs quietly and I find myself entranced by hearing the sound of it. Never have I appreciated her laughter so much in my entire life until this very moment. To see her smile, to see her laugh, if only for one instance, it is immediately a relief. She leaps off the stool for a moment and returns with the batch of crisp, brown wholemeal muffins she baked earlier in a ceramic bowl.

"It's my duty as a mother to feed you up," she says, looking very grim. "Now take a damned muffin."

I consider. If it'll honestly make her happy, I'll take one without hesitation. She looks at me expectantly, daring me to refuse. To avoid admonishment, I force a smile and take one. I dismantle the muffin with my fingers, tearing apart a small piece before stuffing it into my mouth. It's very flavoursome. Esme has always been the most wonderful cooker. Anyone would be insane to pass_ this_ up.

I moan to convey how delightful the taste is, before I swallow it laboriously. She looks very pleased by my assessment. "It doesn't matter if these were laced with rat poison," I say. "I'd still eat them regardless..."

She caresses my arm appreciatively. "You always were and always will be a sweet boy, Edward." Bile rises up in my throat as she says the words. Clearly she doesn't know who she's talking about. I deliberate objecting on her use of the word sweet until she says abruptly, "Edward, you would tell me the truth if I asked you, wouldn't you?"

I can't fathom what she's talking about exactly and when I look at her, she has the most sincere expression of urgency on her face, of pleading. "It depends on what the question is," I answer, before stuffing another piece of the muffin into my mouth.

I was unquestionably not hungry, but it served well as a diversion. It gave me a considerable amount of time to think about what it exactly was that she would be asking. In response, she looks as if she's silently weighing her options, trying to find the correct words to leave the least amount of suspicion on my part.

She caresses my forearm again, giving it a light squeeze, grimacing. "All the late nights your father has spent at work," she begins, as I audibly swallow, "Has he been at work?"

I look at her, assessing the dismal expression on her face. My main instinct is to lie, reassure her in some form or gesture. I'm beginning to wish I'd never eaten those two mouthfuls of the muffin now.

I stare down at the muffin, pulling it apart with my fingers, privately humouring myself with the notion of the muffin being my father's head. "Not all times," I say at last. I don't look at her. I'm inevitably terrified of what I'll see. "But you needn't be concerned any longer..." Those were the only, singular words I could say, the only words I could offer her for reassurance.

It was pathetic. I knew too much, that was absolutely certain. I wished I didn't.

Her name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth Masen. I always wondered why she strikes me as so familiar. I only caught sight of her once, and frankly, I'd rather not see her again. She was waiting for Carlisle after his evening shift at the hospital. She looked like one of those high maintenance, superficial women. The differences between her and Esme were almost immediate simply by looking at her...

"And there _was_ someone else?" Esme inquires quietly, pulling me out of my unpleasant reverie.

I force myself to look at her. She has her hand shielding her face from view. I can tell she's crying now. Carlisle has disobeyed her trust.

"Yes," I respond miserably. I glance down at the muffin, feeling simultaneously irritated with myself. There are crumbs all over the kitchen counter. I don't want her to observe that I've practically destroyed her cooking and consequently offend her. I scoop the remaining crumbs into my palm and then toss them into my mouth.

"Edward?" Esme whispers softly and I turn my head in her direction. She daubs at her cheeks with the tissue before collecting herself. She caresses my forearm again and then attempts to smile. "Thank you for telling me the truth," she says, her gray eyes staring into mine knowingly.

"Anytime," I say quietly, before cramming the last of the muffin into my mouth. I can see she'd like to be alone, to assess her troublesome situation with Carlisle. I step off the stool, chewing arduously as I stomp up the staircase and into my bedroom.

I close the door carefully behind me, flicking the lock. I swallow the mouthful of wholemeal muffin, trudging over to my backpack. I find my cigarettes, select one, find my glass ashtray and pull open my curtains. It's absolutely dark outside now. I open my window, filling my lungs with the refreshing night air.

I know I didn't do the appropriate thing. Any decent son would lie and spare their mother the heartbreak. I light my cigarette, performing a reverent drag. The smoke that goes straight through to my lungs scratches my throat and I exhale. The gray, whitish smoke disappears outside my window and blends in with the pitch-black darkness.

I entertain myself with delightful thoughts as I wonder what my Bella would be doing right now. Would she be sleeping safely in her bed? Would she be awake and thinking of me? Would she be realising the mistake she's made in saying that she loves me?

The strong taste of the cigarette is beginning to sicken me so I stab the stub out into the ashtray. I run a hand through my hair, the ends feeling stiff and adhesive from the gel I've used this morning. I resume entertaining myself with enticing thoughts of my Bella as I lie back onto my sofa, my hands clasped around my middle.

My Bella is lying directly on top of me. She leans over me as she slowly unbuttons her silky pyjama top. Usually dressed modest, I can see the full length of her collarbone and neck now. I trace my fingers lightly across the indentations of her collarbone, her body shivering in response.

My hands find their way to her neck and I pull her down closer to me, her hair tickling my chest as I take the soft skin of her neck into my mouth. I part my lips an inch further, inclining the front of my teeth level to her flesh. I start slowly, softly, grazing them along her skin, savouring the sweetness of her. I hear her breathing loudly above me, in long ragged inhales. I open my jaw wide, as wide as it will possibly go, all my teeth ghosting lightly against her flesh, and then I clench...

_Oh my beautiful, wonderful Bella..._


	9. Party At Newton's

_**A Week Later...**_

"Are you absolutely certain you want me to do this, Bella?"

I consider. "Do I honestly have a choice, Alice?" I ask in a wobbly voice.

"No," she says in a dry tone. "And if you try to run off in the middle of your makeover, so help me Bella, I'll cut all of your hair off..." We are going to a party tonight at Mike Newton's house. Half the school is meant to be attending, Edward included. Alice is trying to do something hideous with my hair. She balances her can of hairspray in one hand and my hairbrush in the other as she ponders my reflection in the mirror.

"All right, I've decided that we will-" Alice begins but then there's a loud knock on the bathroom door and Rosalie enters looking like some sort of Russian model, her blond hair tied into a messy bun and her lips a bright, bloody red. I stare at her, feeling slightly envious.

"You poor thing," she says to me as she meets my gaze in the mirror. "You're at the mercy of Alice's wrath. You'll be here forever. Trust me, I know..." Alice waves a hand at her, batting away her comment, and starts on picking out the tangles in my hair.

Half an hour later my hair is swooped around my head like some sort of bird's nest of dark, crimpled hair. I'm not so sure that I like it exactly, but there's no arguing with Alice. Praise especially means everything to her. A simple thank you makes her glow fervently and her cheeks flush.

Alice hurriedly rushes into her bedroom, trying to find something fashionable for herself to wear. She's in an obvious state of panic; she rummages through the drawers, tossing aside garments and they all cascade around us. She's making me even more nervous by the minute by doing this alone.

"Will you be with Edward Cullen tonight?" Rose asks me quietly, glancing over in Alice's direction to make sure she hasn't overheard. Poor Alice. I still haven't told her about Edward Cullen. But, in a way, it made things all the more easier between us.

Before, it was so bizarre. In classes, Edward often came and went, and our encounters were silent and unsettling. He wouldn't let himself get anywhere near me, he wouldn't ever talk to me- maybe he was just as shy as I was, in a sense? -so he was just another adolescent student in the hallway, albeit an absurdly handsome one, who I noticed staring at me a whole lot. I've quickly learned that if you catch a guy staring at you more than once, he probably likes you.

I realize things are so much better in many ways.

For one thing, he's actually talking to me. It isn't all meaningful looks and attentive stares anymore, but real actual conversations about life and events that happen during our days when we're apart from each other. I think the most surprising thing, is that he's constantly touching me - whether it's to get a stray eyelash out from under my eyelids or a reassuring furtive squeeze of my hand in the hallway before our classes – and I actually enjoy it. My day wouldn't be the same without it. But it was always when Alice's eyes were on Jasper, or when we both knew she wasn't looking, because we both didn't want to get caught out.

Things that seemed so utterly mysterious and strange about him before are suddenly logical in every possible way. His father is a doctor, and he finds surgical operations and blood transfusions fascinating. Through basic getting-to-know-you conversations, I've learned that Edward is a fan of classic rock; Aerosmith, Joy Division. We seemed to have a lot in common, funnily enough. I felt that we were getting to know each other very well. Still, I felt I didn't know enough.

Anything I ask him about his life, himself, pastimes – he tells me, with no hesitation at all. No question is ever off limits to him. I realize I've missed so much, I've learnt nothing, by staying away from him in the hallways at school and letting the rumours decide my impression of him. The rumours had painted him as such a suicidal, strange boy. It couldn't have been further from the truth when I was around him, though.

Only Rosalie was reluctant about the whole thing, when I told her that I had told Edward that I had feelings for him.

Thinking back to it, I honestly don't know what possessed me into saying that I could grow to love him. I thought I would have died of embarrassment, that I would somehow screw the whole thing up, but I didn't. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, saying that to Edward. And his response was well worth it; he looked genuinely startled. I knew he thought that I had a thing for Jacob Black, but it definitely seemed to reassure him. And he kissed me and the moment just seemed so right...

I can't help it, I'm blushing. "Um, yeah, we probably will be hanging out," I shrug, trying to seem indifferent. It was actually a relief talking about Edward to someone who knew.

"Bella, there's something about Edward that I would really like to talk to you-" she stops abruptly, lowering her voice and looking at me.

"What about Edward, Rose?" I ask, shy all of a sudden.

I realize by the look on her face that she's been trying to talk to me about this subject all along. She looks worried, concerned for some unfathomable reason. She was the second person – after Edward – who I revealed that I had feelings for him, that I maybe even loved him, and thinking back to it now, I realize that she'd been acting very strange all week. She seemed distracted, trying to cajole me into going places alone with her away from Edward, like to the shopping mall or to the cafeteria.

It was then that I realized I'd spent the whole week with Edward Cullen, barely leaving his side. I immediately feel guilty over this fact. I feel like a really bad friend. I wonder what it is Rose knows. Obviously something is bothering her; I start to wonder idly if it's something I would want to know or not.

Rose looks away for a moment, then looks back at me. "Bella, it's not that I _don't_ like Edward. Hanging out with him these past few days has been very... eventful. He seems to get along with the guys well and he is very friendly toward Alice and me." She stares down at her hands, her bright red lips painted into a grimace. "I only hope that you remember what I told you – about the girlfriend he had and how he wouldn't let her go easily..."

So this is what it's about? This is what has gotten her so distracted and concerned, those rumours that broke out around the school about Edward threatening suicide over an ex breaking-up with him? "I-I'm sure it's only a rumour, Rose." I realize I'm not making this any easier on her.

She nods her head slowly. "No, and it probably is. I just don't want to see you getting too complacent." She meets my eyes and takes my hand, looking worried. "Please don't be mad – I'm only trying to help you. I worry about you, Bella. And while it's great to see you happy, as I said, don't get too complacent. Keep your eyes open, as it were."

I suddenly feel ill. "Of course, Rose," I say to her. She stares at me, then bows her head. We don't say anything else to each other.

* * *

As soon as we step into the door of Mike Newton's party, we all go our separate ways.

Alice weaves her way through the crowd, searching for Jasper. Rose goes straight into the kitchen to get a drink. I didn't know how to react about our latest conversation together about Edward Cullen. I know she was only trying to do the right thing, that she was worried for me, but I also knew and trusted that Edward would tell me if something like that rumour actually did happen in his past. It just didn't seem like something he would do.

But I would ask him about it tonight, I decided then. Well, at least I would try to squeeze the answer out of him subtly with hints; I didn't want to sound like some prying, jealous school girl.


	10. Truths of the Hurtful Kind

**A/N:** I don't own anything, obviously. All belong to their rightful owner in Stephenie Meyer. Hope you enjoy this chapter, its very Edward/Bella oriented lol. Thank you so much for the reviews, kind words of encouragement and thanks so much for reading! Again, hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

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**BSPOV:**

I can't seem to stop staring at Edward, which in all honesty, isn't very good considering Alice doesn't know a single thing. I can tell he notices my staring because he's constantly smirking, even when Jasper says something that isn't even directly funny.

_God, Bella. Just look away. _Now,_ look away!_

"Bella?" Alice nudges me, and I force myself to look away from him at last. She looks confused. "Did you even hear what I was saying?" she asks, and it takes me a moment to remember what we were talking about.

I think fast. "Oh, yes," I say. "Jasper doesn't like going to the mall with you?"

She looks disappointed. "Bella, that was a few minutes ago." She shakes her head before taking a sip of the transcalent liquid she has in her white cup. She grimaces. "This Vodka tastes vile. You should try some..." She thrusts the plastic cup into my hands and I hesitate before raising it to my lips. When I gulp some of it down, it doesn't taste too bad, but afterwards, the alcohol burns in my throat and leaves a bitter aftertaste. In turn, I grimace.

"Gross," I say, nodding in agreement.

My attention automatically drifts back to Edward. He's smirking again, and accepts a drink from Jasper with a look of distaste. When he drinks it, the Adam's apple of his throat bobs up and down and I find myself fascinated, entranced. He runs a hand through his bronze tousled hair, grimacing, before looking in our direction. He all of a sudden meets my gaze and my heart pounds in my chest. I quickly look away from him. _What is wrong with me, gaping at him openly like some kind of idiot?_

I didn't even notice Jasper walking over here, but he pulls Alice out of her seat and her face goes pink. "Dance with me, ma'am?" I hear him ask her softly and her delicate body relaxes, as though she's melting at the sound of his Texan accent. I feel like laughing as he starts to fling her around the room to the upbeat tempo of the rap music.

Edward's over near me now and I start to feel even more nervous. He turns his head in my direction discreetly, that smirk still there. "Come upstairs with me," I hear him say, raising his voice over the music, and I nod before watching him squeeze past me and up the steps.

I stare at Alice for a moment, who has her head resting on Jasper's shoulder now, one of her hands buried into his honey blond hair as he leans into her. I creep slowly up the stairs, hoping not to raise any suspicions as I turn around on the spot, looking for Edward. I can't seem to find him anywhere, but then someone grabs my hand and pulls me into an empty room.

The door slams shut behind me with a snap and I turn around wildly at the sound of it. Edward is standing there, his eyebrows raised, smirking at my frightened state. I relax a bit. My ears are throbbing; I know it's because of the loud music that was blaring from the stereo downstairs.

But this was good. This was what I needed; the chance to finally be alone and ask him about the rumours with his previous girlfriend.

Edward strolls slowly toward me and stops when we're barely an inch away from each other. "I find it very hard to be away from you," he says, smiling. He runs a finger down the back of my dress and stops at the end, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

Darn it. I'm blushing.

"How many girlfriends have you had?" I ask suddenly. I didn't mean for it to come out that way, so demanding and severe, but it did. I found myself becomming increasinly impatient for answers by the minute, even though I hadn't planned to ask this way. Somehow I had invisioned everything to go a little more smoothly.

Edward looks confused for a moment, but then his handsome face smoothens out and there's nothing there in his expression. "There has been others," he says with feigned indifference, shrugging.

I contemplate this for a moment. "How many others, Edward?" I wasn't certain if I really wanted to know, and I didn't know if he'd tell me the truth or not anyway.

Edward suddenly looks nervous. "Is now really necessary, love?"

"If you don't tell me, I'll assume the worst," I tell him quietly. "I'll assume there's like a million others..."

He paces around the room, walking behind me. When he turns to look at me again, he's smiling mischievously. "Ladies first, partner?"

I'm furious. "That isn't fair," I tell him. I sigh. "I asked you first."

Edward shakes his head, the smirk still there. "Will it make you happy if I tell you?" he asks with an expression of mirth mixed with confusion.

I force a smile. "Yeah."

Thankfully, he didn't see through it because he says, "There might have been one who expressed her interest in me, and the feelings were mutual..." He takes my hand gently and leads me toward the double bed that is dominating the middle of the room.

"And what happened?" I ask after a moment when he doesn't speak again. "Did you two break up?"

He laughs. "Yes, obviously." He looks away from me, his brows furrowed as he sits down the bed, inclining his head so I can't exactly make out his expression. "We parted ways in a very... sensible fashion." He pats the bed softly with his palm and I sit down next to him, clasping my arms around my knees.

He doesn't say anything else, his lips pressed into a tight thin line. I don't know what to say now. For a moment, he looks hurt. I start to wonder if they had an unresolved conflict of some sort, and it starts to dawn on me that it worries me. Am I jealous over this? Maybe I am...

Edward leans over. "Sometimes I think you're the only thing keeping me sane." He breathes into my ear and then runs his tongue along the rim. I shiver in delight, surprised. He wraps his arms around me and I hold him tighter to me with all the strength I can manage. "If that's what I am..." I hear him say, his voice soft and low.

I'm confused. "I don't understand why you do that, Edward," I whisper into his neck.

Edward pulls away from me and we look at each other for a long moment. He looks hurt, his brows furrowed. "Do what, love?" he asks, before stroking my hair.

"Talk badly about yourself." This was one trait I was learning was ever-present about Edward; he could be very self-depreciating at times during conversations. Humble. Modest. I stare down at our hands, which are tangled together and warm.

I didn't want this moment to end, as silly as that sounded. I felt that I could talk – stare at Edward silently, even – for a lifetime. It's as if I become a different person when I'm around him; this foolish girl bathed in feelings of desire and sexual frustration, almost.

I run my hand down his shirt before making a start with undoing the buttons. It's very loud downstairs, with the rap music blaring from the stereo and the thumping beats and bass line making the bed vibrate slightly. I lean forward and kiss him.

_Great, so much for keeping on track about inquiring on his past... _But then, I found that kissing him was so much more of an enticing idea.

"Bella?"

"Mmmm?" I don't want to pull away from him, I can't. I feel like I'm in an early heaven.

"Will we make love right _now_?"

"Oh." I pull away from him, burying my face into the collar of his shirt. Him having said those words, I'm suddenly nervous. I feel as if eyes are all on me, as if all these people, Charlie, Alice, Rose, especially Edward, are watching me. Why is this so complicated? Why can't my feelings for Edward just take control of the situation and make my body do this act gracefully?

Edward rolls on top of me, straddling me, and my breath hitches in my throat. I stare up at him. He's smiling crookedly, his bronze hair falling into his forehead. "It's not that I object," he says quietly. He leans over me and starts kissing my neck.

_Heaven!_

"Oh, my Bella," I hear him say wistfully, his breath warm on the skin of my neck.

I'm feeling very hot all of a sudden. A heat of warmth gravitates from my neck down, my crotch tingling. I start to feel dizzy and awkward. Okay Bella, I tell myself. Deep breath. I start shakily on unbuttoning his shirt. It takes me a very long time. My hands kept fumbling around but my nerves were justified with the fact that Edward was kissing and sucking my neck.

Once all the buttons are undone at last, Edward stops kissing my neck and looks down at me. "I worship you," he says with an expression of immense sincerity, to my absolute surprise. I can feel my cheeks burning.

I try to distract myself, looking away from his intense gaze. I run my hands down his chest, exploring, running my thumb along soft indentations and muscles. His skin is very warm, and smooth. I can feel him staring as I slowly lean forward and press my lips to a hairless patch on his chest.

I hear Edward laugh softly above me and I find the sound very pleasant. It seems to break the nervous tension between us and he touches my neck lightly with his fingertips, running them slowly along my throat and up to my chin. "I adore you," he says softly, before grasping my chin between his thumb and forefinger, probably a little too harder than intended and moving my head to the side so it's resting on the soft pillow behind me.

My jaw throbs a little from the sudden forceful movement, but it isn't unbearable. The mattress lurches a bit as Edward moves over me, leaning over, his mouth near my ear.

"I want you now," he says in my ear, his voice soft and compelling, and I wasn't going to deny him.

I watch Edward as he shrugs out of his shirt and unbuckles his belt. His eyes darken and I realize that I hardly recognize him. The thought scares me and I have to quickly look away from him. Stupid, silly Bella. Why was I entertaining myself with horrifying notions right now? Obviously my nerves were trying to scare me into not going through with this.

I look around the room as Edward slides the zipper down on his trousers. I have no idea where we are or whose room this is. It has a faint, musky smell to it and we probably shouldn't be doing this in some stranger's bed. No, it isn't just any stranger's bed. It could be-

"Mike Newton," I whisper, shuddering at the thought.

Oh God. I realize I've said the name out loud and at such an inconvenient time. Edward pauses with what he is doing. "What about him?" he asks, sounding confused. I look over at him. He's almost naked now and the sight of him makes me want to attack him with kisses. He bends down and takes off his socks and I take the moment to compose myself.

I sit up. "Do you think this is his room?" I ask apprehensively.

"It's possible," Edward says, hardly caring at all.

"Oh." I stare down at my fingernails, my hands trembling.

It wasn't that I didn't want to do this with Edward, I just wasn't sure if I was ready. Edward stares at me with a high level of concentration and I realize I'm the only one that's basically fully dressed here. I feel so stupid. I make a start with finding the zipper on my dress but Edward takes my hands and holds them.

"Will you please stop trying to take your clothes off, love?" he says as I lie back down. He straddles me again, pressing the length of his warm body against mine. I feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric of my dress, the solidity of his body. It dawns on me that we're really about to do this.

"Do you want to do that part?" I ask, my voice shaking.

"Naturally," he only says in a low voice. He starts kissing me again, his tongue going straight in. Suddenly the door flings open, and we pull apart. Edward scrambles for the covers, pulling them over me, but it's too late.

"Bella?" I hear Alice say, her voice loud and marinated with shock. "And... Edward Cullen?"

Somebody please kill me.


	11. Parting

**A/N: **Again I own nothing. Everything belongs to author Stephenie Meyer. Thanks so much for your reviews, favorites and alerts; it's always really appreciated. :) Wow, I never expected so many people would read my story so really, thank you!  
And I hope you keep enjoying this story and the turmoil Edward and Bella find themselves in.

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I desperately wanted to dig a hole and bury myself.

"I don't know what's worse. The fact that you were doing dirty, unspeakable things with _him_" – she darts a dirty look at Edward – "or the fact that you've completely messed up your hair _while _doing dirty unspeakable things with _him_. Bella, how-"

"Well, I, for that matter, happen to be partial to the look of Bella's hair at this very moment..." Edward interrupts softly and I gape at him incredulously; he wasn't making this any easier at all.

"Of course you are," Alice says, her voice rising louder and louder into a shriek by the minute. "You've just defiled her. I'd forgotten how brazen you are..."

I know that it was unforgivable of me to hide all of this from Alice but she was severely overreacting. She starts pacing back and forth around the room, her arms crossed and mouth pulled down into a frown. Edward hardly seems concerned at all by Alice's invasion; he's perched on the end of the double bed, bronzed hair wild and in a more chaotic state than usual. He's still half naked and smirking, the blanket tangled between his legs and chest bare, an epitome of indifference despite it all.

To make matters all the more worse, Jasper comes in to see what the commotion is; I recognize the look of surprise on his face as he sees Edward on the bed, his lips parting and eyebrows rising halfway up toward his hairline. Thankfully, he doesn't say anything; he closes his mouth, composing himself before giving us both a quick smile.

Alice looks as if she is going to have a panic attack. She paces around the room again, ignoring Jasper when he reaches out to her. I was sort of pitifully hoping Jasper would somehow be able to calm her down and make her see that this wasn't as serious as it looked, but she pays him no attention.

"How long has this been going on?" Alice finally asks me breathlessly.

"Not that long," I mumble feebly, shifting my feet uncomfortably at the knowing glare she gives me.

"I suppose I should have known," she says with a sigh. She looks away from me for a moment, then looks over at Jasper who is standing there, regarding her anxiously. "You two always were together in the cafeteria." When she looks back at me, she has a faraway, distant look in her eyes. "I thought I would have been the first to know... I thought I would have seen it with my two very own eyes if that were the case..."

Poor Alice.

"Does Rose already know?" she asks, bouncing on the heels of her feet slightly excited as she asks this.

"Um," I stare down at my fingernails, feeling even more wretched by the minute. "Yes. She was the first person to know," I finally finish at last.

When I look up at Alice, I instantly regret telling her that. She looks hurt, her dark eyebrows furrowed and mouth in a tight, thin grim line. Of course, in a way, I knew she would react like this. I should have told her first thing – along with Rosalie - but I didn't. I feel like such a bad friend.

She turns her back on me, her head bowed. "Bella, I will _always_ tell _you_ the truth," she says quietly, sadly. She obviously looks very upset and betrayed because judging by the expression on Jasper's face, he looks eager to comfort her.

"Alice, I'm so sor -" I begin desperately.

"Save it, Bella!" She shrieks, looking back at me, her eyes narrowed. "Save your remorse for someone who actually believes it..." She meets Edward's gaze, Edward who I had somehow for a moment forgotten was in the same room as us, watching the argument brewing between us. Alice raises her hand in his direction, jabbing her forefinger at him. "I'll do every damnedest thing possible to make sure Bella stays away from you. Do you understand that?"

I'd never seen Alice act so angry or threatening before and it startles me. I look over at Edward miserably, who is frozen, disbelieving. After a moment, he leans forward, unleashing the full intensity of his gaze onto her, his brows furrowed. "I don't think you understand the sheer impossibility of what you're saying, Alice..." he says in a low voice full of authority.

Alice ignores Edward and takes my hand, dragging me toward the door. "Come on, Bella."

"Alice, no!" I say, a little too louder than intended and she lets go of my hand and steps back, flinching, as though I've slapped her.

"Stop being a baby about all of this."

"Alice, please, why can't you-" I start to plead, my voice shaking, but she interrupts.

"No tantrums, Bella."

I feel like I'm going to cry. I clench my teeth together, grinding them, and try to make an attempt in breathing slowly and calmly. Why couldn't Alice understand that Edward meant a lot to me? Factually, what happened between Edward and I was none of her business but still she was so adamant on me getting away from him. I couldn't fathom why she didn't like Edward; just looking at him, talking to him in lunchbreaks, wasn't it reason enough?

She continues to stare at him as though he's a bad piece of art, as though he's the most grotesque creature in the world, before meeting my eyes. "Bella?"

She lingers by the door, waiting for me.

My whole body has started to go numb, my arms and legs tingling and then I somehow can't seem to feel them anymore. My stomach feels as if it has dropped out of my chest, as though I've lunged from a great height, experiencing vertiginous falling sensations. There is a constant tickling in my throat, a sob daring to escape from my mouth.

How could she ask this of me?

"Bella?" she says again, gesturing toward the door with her hands, her voice rising.

I guess that's what they mean when they say that eventually everything you love – or seem to love – you'll lose. I glance over at Edward one last time, wishing I could somehow imprint his body and soul into my mind. He looks back at me with an unconditional look of despair, his bronze tousled hair falling into his eyes as he bows his head; it pierces me with a new sadness and longing, a longing to comfort him.

I close my eyes as I walk slowly toward the door, shaky legs, numb feet and all. Alice and Jasper follow closely behind me.


	12. Invisible Line

**A/N:** I own absolutely nothing except the plotline. All characters belong to the great Stephenie Meyer. Thanks you so much for your kind words and reviews. It means so much to know that you like this story and I really, really do appreciate it. Words cannot explain how much so. Thought I'd try update a tad quicker for you all. Thanks again so much for reading and please keep the reviews and your thoughts coming! :)

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I couldn't help worrying about Edward over the weekend and when I saw him in English class on the Monday, my nerves were justified; His face looked thinner, as though he'd lost some weight during the weekend, which he couldn't afford to lose in the first place. His face was paler than usual and he had stubble on his chin. I found that this never made me feel any less attracted to him in the slightest, not surprisingly. If anything, it made me all the more concerned than anything else, and with good reason.

I knew it was egotistical of me to think that our separation had affected him in such a way, but I couldn't help hoping he felt the same way as me. I felt literally dead, like a zombie personified. The thought of eating constantly turned my stomach and I knew the only cure and antidote for feeling like myself again was _him_.

On Tuesday at lunch I sit in the cafeteria, alone at a table in the far corner of the room and waiting for Alice and Rosalie. Every time I heard a shimmer of laughter from a few girls at their tables, I'd automatically straighten up in my seat and look behind my shoulder toward the cafeteria doors, hoping to catch sight of Edward in all his boyishly handsome glory, only Alice and Rose always seemed to beat him to it.

I couldn't bear looking over at Edward in front of them in case Alice saw, so I always kept to my tray of untouched food or the boring eggshell colored walls of the cafeteria. The only time I did look at him, on Monday, was in my only class without Alice or Rose. English class.

He'd arrived halfway through the lesson and our English teacher Mr. Mason was in a bad mood because of it. He stared at Edward grimly as Edward passed him his hallway pass and I noticed Edward's hand was trembling. "All right, Mr. Cullen," Mr. Mason had said, after ripping the hallway pass into shreds and throwing it into the trashcan. "Go sit in your assigned seat next to Miss. Swan."

I straightened up in my seat at the sound of my name, crossing my legs as he slowly strolled down the aisle. He pulled back his seat, the legs scraping loudly against the linoleum floor and causing our teacher to give him a disapproving look, and then he swiftly took his seat, stretching out those long legs and putting his ballpoint pen between his lips.

Those lips!

I made myself look away from him, pretending to be preoccupied with writing notes for the lesson, but it didn't work as well as I'd hoped. I heard the loud, distracting _thuds_, the drumming of his fingertips on the wooden desk beside me and when I turned my head in his direction, he was looking right at me, a wicked tiny smirk pulling up the corner of his lip. I started to feel very hot, a flood of heat rushing to my head and my cheeks burning.

He combed his fingers through his bronzed, tousled hair as he sighed loudly; inclining his head toward the notes he was starting to scribble down in his folder of what Mr. Mason had written on the board. A few strands stood up obscure and I had this intense, powerful urge to lean over in my seat and flatten his fringe down, my fingers twitching in response.

That hair!

I tried to distract myself by forcing myself to look back down at my sheet of paper. A moment later I found myself looking over at Edward again. Stupid, silly Bella. I silently thanked God that Alice wasn't present in the room to witness my close observing of his handsome face and God-given body. I let my eyes travel down to his white dress shirt and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and I could see the muscles of his forearm through his light, fair skin.

And that was the last time I looked at Edward...

I had to admit, I was no good with holding grudges so I couldn't not talk to Alice after what she demanded of me when she found Edward and I in an uncompromising position in Mike Newton's room. After all, she was my best friend and it would feel bizarre not talking to her. Still, it didn't stop me from wanting to stand up and scream in her face: "I like Edward, and you're my best friend so please, if you want me to be happy then don't make me choose between you two!" Every time I daydreamed about telling her of such truths, it gave me an immeasurable amount of satisfaction.

I couldn't contain a smile at the thought as I waited in line in the cafeteria. Freshman year girls were still exclaiming loudly over their trays about Mike Newton's party on the weekend, but I tried to shut it all out as I gathered my food. The mere thought of Mike Newton's party just left me feeling drained and depressed. I sit down in my seat, placing my tray carefully on the table as I look outside the tall window. The sun looks as if it's trying to leak its way out of the dark gray clouds and emits a soft, white glow. It almost looks as if it's going to be a good day.

Alice joins me a moment later, strutting over to the table. She stood for a moment, pulling up her black tights before taking a seat. "We're in for a long week," she says in a hushed whisper, opening her backpack and pulling out her Vogue magazine.

I'm confused. "What happened?" I ask, alarmed.

I hadn't noticed Rosalie was right behind me and she squeezes my shoulder confidentially before taking the seat next to me. "Apparently something went down at Mike Newton's party after we left," she answers, shrugging as she picks up one of the round green grapes from my tray by the stem and pops it into her mouth.

"Yep," Alice says and I turn in my seat, facing her. "Apparently the police got called over shortly after and Mike Newton suffered a fractured rib..." She doesn't glance over at me to notice the horrified expression on my face as she flips the front cover of her glossy magazine.

I shudder, staring down at my tray of untouched food. Poor Mike Newton. I couldn't imagine what happened to him and the intense pain he must be in right now with recovery; I'd been in many accidents, had many broken bones, but a fractured rib wasn't one of them...

Emmett and Jasper are sauntering over to our table now, chatting animatedly about something and the pair of them quickly fall quiet as they reach our table. Emmett stares at Rose suggestively, wriggling his eyebrows at her and I can't help but laugh. It seemed things were going great between the two of them.

He notices my laughing as he sits next to her, a peculiar smile coming across his face as he leans over toward me. "So, I hear you and Cullen had the big split?" My stomach sinks at the words and my lip trembles pathetically.

It wasn't my intention to act that way, especially in front of Emmett, but I couldn't help it. I think he notices it too because he's quick to change the subject. He starts talking about some baseball game that happened over the weekend and my mind drifts off aimlessly to another place.

I tear a green grape off the stem, my fingers trembling, and squish it, applying pressure and the skin breaks. The liquid comes out in a clear gush and it distracts me infinitesimally, though not enough to hear the pleasurable caramel voice near our table.

"Would you mind if I sat at your table?"

I knew that voice and it was something I was sure I could recognize from a mile away; Edward Cullen.

When I look over at him, I have to take a moment to catch my breath. He's looking down at his sneakers, not daring to meet my gaze or anyone else's, his bronze hair falling into his forehead and mouth pressed into a tight line. When he looks up, he looks at Alice through the dark lashes of his eyes, and I notice his eyes aren't just green; they looked a mix of color, a blue-green. I think he notices my curious look because he smiles knowingly before slipping his backpack off his shoulders.

Even I can notice the look of enjoyment on Alice's face as she assesses Edward's miserable expression. "Well, I don't know." She stares down at the table for a long moment, looking deep in thought as though she's debating whether to let him sit down or not. Then she looks up at him, scrutinizing Edward with her brown eyes. "It depends on your motives."

Edward smiles again, though it looks a little forced this time around. The sight of him makes me want to throw myself at him irrationally. "I would like the opportunity to speak with Emmett and Jasper, if that's all right?" His voice comes out slightly rasping, as though he hasn't used it all weekend. It amazed me how polite he was acting toward Alice despite her open hostility.

Alice raises her face in my direction, her eyebrows raised and I quickly look down at my tray. "I suppose so." Out of the corner of my eyes, I see her lift two forefingers up conspicuously. "But there's an invisible line over here," she says quietly, and when I look up she's separating her forefingers and suspiciously drawing an invisible line in the air on my side of the table. "No crossing it, all right?"

I grind my teeth together in frustration; I couldn't believe Alice was doing this, and in such a childish way. She had some nerve.

Edward sighs loudly before pulling open the empty chair near Jasper. He leans forward toward Alice, his elbows resting on the table. "On what conditions?" he asks softly, tapping the veneer of the table with his fingers.

Alice bursts out laughing, clearly enjoying herself and Edward's dismal demeanour and I watch miserably as she touches her forehead discreetly. She too leans forward in her chair toward him, smiling widely. "Hmm. Okay, well, let's say, if you speak to Bella in any way, I'll get Emmett and Jasper to tackle you out of the school grounds and-"

Rosalie interrupts, to my absolute relief. "-Cut it out, Alice," she says, looking over at Alice with a clear note of warning in her tone. I feel an immediate surge of warmth toward her and she meets my gaze. She closes her eyes and shakes her head apologetically before reopening them and looking over at Emmett, her expression softening.

"Where's your tray, man?" I hear Emmett ask Edward through an audible swallow of his meat pie.

I hear Edward clear his throat. "I'll be sick if I eat anything," he explains softly. "It wouldn't be prudent."

I glance over at him at his words and for the first time this week we look at each other for a long moment regardless of the fact that Alice is right near us. Sitting opposite him desperately made me want to kiss him, comfort him, run my hands through his soft bronzed hair. Even in a more maternal instinct, I felt like shovelling food down his throat in an effort to make him put on some more weight.

"Please tell me you're not going all manorexic on us?" Emmett says, bringing me back down into the moment and I quickly look away from Edward and down at my hands which are clasped tightly together in my lap, trying not to smile at the blatant term Emmett used.

I hear a loud slapping noise and look up to see Rose's hand level to the nape of Emmett's neck and he recoils as though she's slapped him, a dimpled smirk forming on his face. "You idiot," Rose whispers, shaking her head disapprovingly before reaching forward and stealing another grape from my tray.

"What?" Emmett says with a look of genuine confusion on his face.

I try not to laugh, staring back down at my tray of food. I feel suddenly nauseous at the thought of eating, my stomach turning, and I push my tray away, in Rose's direction. Alice notices this a moment later. "Bella, you're not eating?" she asks with an innocent smile on her face now.

That really irritated me, and she knew it. I scoff at her, "Have you ever thought the reason I wasn't eating is because the way you're treating Edward is totally uncalled for?"

"Bella," she hisses in frustration through clenched teeth. "He's not the kind of company you want to keep. I've heard things about-"

"Really?" I ask her in disbelief, rolling my eyes. "You've heard things? Well, they're just rumours Alice. Maybe if you took the moment to realize that Edward is a really nice guy and stop acting as if you're my mother..."

Her eyes widened in shock at my little outburst. I felt like such a bitch for shooting my mouth off at her in that instant. I felt like the cruellest person on earth.

"Bella, you _don't_ know what he's really like."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "And _you_ do?" I ask her flatly. "Listen, we've only just started getting to know each other. If I want to be friends with Edward, then I can make that decision for myself."

She was staring at me, open mouthed, refusing to believe I had just rebuked her.

I felt kind of bad for her, but it was nothing compared to how bad I felt for how she was behaving toward Edward. He didn't deserve that. Alice, Rosalie and I had minor fights all the time, so I wasn't too concerned over it. At least, I _told_ myself I wasn't. I didn't say anything else to her, even though she made a point of glaring at me. Purposely ignoring her over how she was behaving to Edward, I turn my body in Rose's direction, finally gaining the courage to give Alice the well deserved cold shoulder.

* * *

After the final bell tolls for the end of school, I walk slowly down the lot with Alice and Jasper on my tail. I found it unfair; Alice could look at Jasper lovingly and talk to him and kiss him and do all the things she liked to do to him – yet for me and Edward to do it, it wasn't acceptable?

Out of the corner of my eye I see Edward's silver Volvo, the glossy veneer glistening faintly in the sun. I peek a look over and see that he's already inside, the automatic window scrolled down giving me clear view of his absurdly handsome face. He meets my gaze and my heart is pounding. He's smoking a cigarette and a trail of smoke is rising from his nostrils and disappearing out the window.

I look behind my shoulder. Alice and Jasper are strolling far behind me, hand in hand and deep in conversation over something. Once again I'm infuriated by the double standards of her demand. A sudden rush of adrenalin flows through me and it only takes me a moment to make up my mind.

I start walking over toward Edward's Volvo, hurrying up my pace. I can tell Edward's ascertained that he'd better prepare for our escape because I see him throw his cigarette on the asphalt before starting the ignition. The car engine rumbles loudly and I glance over to see Alice and Jasper still engrossed in each other, his face buried in her cropped hair.

I open the car door quickly, throwing my backpack down under my feet as I slam the door shut. I relax into my seat as I look over at Edward and he smiles crookedly, my heart racing a thousand times faster in reaction as he stomps on the gas and we go speeding out of the parking lot.

At last, I'm in my happy place and with the knowledge that Alice couldn't get in our way with her unfair judgment of Edward.


	13. One or the Other

**A/N: **I own nothing except the plot. Everything; characters, etc, belong to the great Stephenie Meyer. No infringement or copyright is intended. I want to say a huge, gigantic thank you to everyone for your reviews and for reading my story. I really never thought anyone would like it so thank you all so, so much for your kind words of encouragement. You are all so nice and I love you all dearly :) I really hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

* * *

"Bella Swan."

Edward raises his face in my direction, smirking, his bronzed hair windblown from the heavy breeze leaking in through the open tinted window.

"What?" I ask defensively after a moment, leaning my head back against the seat and relaxing.

"I've so easily corrupted you, but is it absolutely absurd of me to feel over the moon right now?"

I'm startled by the sincere passion in his words and I couldn't deny that I felt the same way right now.

I scrutinize Edward. He looks genuinely happy, exultant by my escaping from the miserable, demanding clutches of Alice and Jasper. His hands are clenched tightly around the steering wheel and when a car passes us in the double lane of the highway, I hear him chuckle softly before stomping on the pedal of the accelerator.

Holy cow!

I realize Edward is driving way over the assigned limit now as the needle of the speedometer reaches over one hundred. He's clearly trying to outrace the driver in the rusty black Ford in front of us because he swerves the car so that it's perfectly aligned in the middle of the road, threateningly close to the exterior of the other car.

"Edward, will you please slow down?" I ask, my voice shaking.

Edward looks confused for some unfathomable reason. "Bella, I always drive like this, love."

"Well, you didn't before when I was in your car," I say, my voice coming out high-pitched.

I hear the wind rushing loudly past the car, the wheels bumping over the asphalt, the engine of the Volvo thunderous in my ears. I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the seat, my body tensing in fear, wishing I had something to hold onto. My heart is pounding and when I reopen my eyes, everything outside is a mixed blur of green and blue.

The sun appears in the distance, glinting off the corner of the cars exterior and panning in on Edward's face and he covers his eyes with his hand at the bright painful reflection and then rubs his forehead. The car doesn't decelerate and he continues to ignore me. I feel like I'm going to cry. The leather seats vibrate from the force of the engine, my body quivering, spreading from my tailbone to my head, and my teeth chatter.

I'm starting to lose my patience with all of this. "Edward, are you trying to get us killed?" I yell at the top of my lungs, grabbing the sleeve of Edward's shirt and shaking his arm hysterically. Edward finally looks over at me, giving me a side-long glance, startled.

Edward chuckles again, clearly enjoying my discomfort and, to my relief, the car slows down at last and I watch as the needle on the speedometer gradually returns back to eighty. Thank God.

I relax back into my seat, trying to breath slowly and carefully but unable to contain my fury at Edward and his risk taking. I look over to find him smiling vastly and I glare at him before turning my attention to the scenery outside the window.

I realize I'd been so preoccupied and scared with the thought of crashing that I didn't notice we'd passed not only my house, but we were almost halfway toward the Olympic Peninsula right now.

"Where are you going, Edward?" I ask confusedly, glancing over him and almost simultaneously forgetting my fury.

"I figured since I already have you right here, I thought we could go somewhere private," he explains softly with one eyebrow raised as though daring me to object.

I thought this over for a moment, feeling suspicious. Edward wanted to go somewhere private – and to do what?

Edward combs a hand through his bronzed, tousled hair. "There's a burial ground located a mile from here," he says, smiling widely. "I figured after I'm done with you I can bury your body inconspicuously where no one will witness it..."

I stare at him, startled.

He chuckles softly at the expression on my face and then shakes his head, smiling wryly. "Isabella, I have no intentions to kill you, love," he says honestly, as though that should be all the more reassuring. He looks over at me very seriously now. "Living without you is... inconceivable to me."

I nod silently, satisfied by his answer.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, Edward pulls up on the side of the road near a dirt track and says nothing as he jumps out of the car. I hesitate for a moment, thinking this through; if Charlie found out about this, he would probably ground me right now, but just by looking at Edward's handsome face, it's something I'm willing to risk.

I slam the door as I hop out, still irritated with him. Edward strolls over to me slowly and takes my hand. "Hold on," he says very grimly, pausing for a moment, his brows furrowed. "Let me go get my shovel."

"Very funny, Edward," I say through my teeth. He chuckles again.

Halfway up the track, I spot a beautiful sight. A meadow. Edward leads me into the clearing, wading through the tall, dead brown grass and I silently admire the flowers that are blooming. The wind that is picking up seems to flatten the grass, dead leaves rustling and trees groaning.

Edward is watching me taking it all in. "What do you think, love?" he asks softly.

"It's amazing." And it is.

Soon we both lay side by side on the grass, my head resting on Edward's chest. It was very comfortable and I felt that I could lie here forever with him. I turn my head so my cheek is resting on his stomach, the warmth of his body soaking through the fabric of his shirt and I hear Edward sigh above me.

I found myself pondering, wishing once again that things were different between Alice and Edward. I still couldn't understand why she didn't like Edward. Usually, she liked the people that I happened to like. She made friends easily with the same people I made friends with. But with Edward, it was as if they were both on a different page. It wasn't fair at all.

Edward leans up on his elbows and I stare at his face; he looks across the meadow, seeing something in the distance, his hair windblown from the breeze. Then he looks down at me and I suddenly feel uncomfortable, a rush of blood flowing to my cheeks. I realize with me lying on Edward's chest, it seems too... close for some reason and I sit up, clasping my arms around my knees.

"Do you come here often?" I ask, quickly looking away from him and further north over the meadow. The wind is starting to pick up and strands of dry, brown grass flatten and the trees are creaking and groaning. Other than that, it truly is quite peaceful here, and I could see why Edward would like it here so much.

Edward chuckles. "Yes," he says and when I meet his gaze, he's smiling widely at something. "It has certain... sacred qualities."

By the way he says it, so cryptically, I'm instantly intrigued. "What kind of sacred qualities?" I ask, a little too soon without thinking.

Edward laughs again, a low pleasurable chuckle and looks at me defiantly, combing his fingers through his bronze tousled hair. "I won't say too much on the matter, love," he only says, smiling wryly and shaking his head. He looks for a moment as if he is silently considering on telling me and then he says quietly, "For instance, until a few weeks ago, where you let me kiss you... my car didn't hold any sacred qualities at all." He leans forward and grabs my ankle, to my surprise, smirking. "But after you and I, well, I think you understand..." He nods slowly and looks away from me, over the meadow. "Now my car is simply one of my most prized possessions."

I feel so stupid. How could I be so naive and sickly innocent?

Edward laughs again and I thought I heard him mumble, "Oh, my Bella," but I could have heard wrong considering the wind whooshing past my ears. Still, I felt an odd thrill. In some kind of perverse way, I loved how Edward referred to me as "his Bella". It made me feel almost as if we had something special here, despite my obvious inexperience.

My mind started drifting unpleasantly back to Mike Newton's party, about what Edward had said about the other girl he had dated and his face – how he seemed so anguished still over it. Again, this weird feeling overcomes me and it dawns on me that I am so pathetically jealous for some reason. What makes it all worse is the fact that Edward probably took her to this beautiful meadow before me where they probably shared more than a few kisses...

Edward pulls my leg into his lap and starts rolling up the cuffs of my trousers. The wind is cold against my skin and I knew it wasn't long before I broke out in gooseflesh. Edward stares at me with his green penetrating eyes and I immediately felt embarrassed like I did every time Edward looked at me that way, so intensely as though he could see straight through to my soul. But at the same time, it made me feel great.

Edward holds my leg up in the air by my foot and smiles mischievously, my breathing starting to come out shallow and my palms slick. He watches me, clearly enjoying my reaction, his green eyes twinkling as he leans forward, pressing his lips to the skin above my ankle. Every time he pressed those lips to my skin I felt my head pounding and my breathing would always increase, my chest rising and falling. The stubble on his chin started making the skin feel sore and tender.

"When I was watching you when you were reading in the library, in the cafeteria and in classes, your face always fascinated me," Edward says after a moment in a hushed whisper, his warm breath tickling the skin of my ankle. "Even when you're eighty, Bella, you're still going to be the most beautiful woman." He says it with so much passion that it unnerves me.

I shudder at the thought of his words. How could he possibly find me attractive when I'm wrinkly and ambling along with a walking stick and arthritic fingers? I have a bizarre dismal thought of Edward and I in one of the nursery homes – Edward who would be so charming that all the nurses would get all flustered under their uniforms and demand to bring him trays of extra food just as an excuse to see him again...

"What are you afraid of?" Edward asks suddenly and it takes me a long moment to think about it.

I say the first thing that comes to my mind without hesitation. "Ageing," I admit and Edward laughs. He smiles crookedly and lowers my ankle, resting it carefully in his lap.

"You're absurd," he says, shaking his head, his tone conversational. There's a moment of silence where we just stare at each other – wondering about each other's thoughts and then Edward's eyes darken. He pinches the skin of my ankle between his thumb and forefinger, hard.

"Ouch," I screech, kicking him with my foot and twisting my ankle out of his reach. I hold my ankle close to me and we both look at each other silently, glowering.

"Don't be a baby about all of this, love," Edward says in an obvious imitation of Alice and I suddenly have this powerful, intense urge to hit him with something. I contemplate tackling him like I'd seen Emmett do it during football games but I was in no way strong enough against Edward.

"Hmph," I say in frustration, crossing my legs and arms.

"Isabella Marie Swan," he drones, patting the grass beside him.

It was then that I realized he knew my full name - not just Isabella or my last name, but my middle name, too. I don't recall ever saying that to him and I start to wonder suspiciously where he got his information from. Edward moves over to me instead and my body automatically tenses as he puts both of his hands around my neck, fingers overlapping.

I realize if someone was to walk into the meadow and see us, they'd probably get the wrong impression and assume Edward is choking me but at that moment I didn't care. Strangely enough, I was too busy enjoying myself with being in Edward's company, messing around, than anything else.

We stare at each other for a minute and I can feel myself blushing again under Edward's intense gaze. When he least expects it, I nudge him hard in the ribs and deftly manoeuvre myself out of his hold and scramble to my feet hurriedly. Edward stands, looming over me, clutching his ribs and then the darkness in his eyes returns and I take this as a sign to bolt or else.

I start to trudge through the grass; my breath hitching in my throat audibly as Edward easily matches my pace and catches me by my waist, swinging me around. "You better apologize," he demands grimly and I burst out laughing. His hands clench into fists at the sound of my laughter and he looks fiercely determined, creeping a few steps forward, his bronzed hair falling into his eyes.

"Why don't you just bite me?" I tease, clutching my hand to my throat, trying to breathe, my ribs hurting from laughing so much.

He raises one eyebrow, coming slowly toward me and I back away in time. "Now you really shouldn't have said that," he says, his voice low and full of warning.

Holy cow.

I start to run but, of course, being silly clumsy Bella, my heel gets caught on my ankle and I fall headfirst into the grass. A rush of adrenaline rushes through me and I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, just lying there in the grass, waiting, surrendering for Edward to come get me.

After a moment later I find Edward wading sedately through the grass, his arms crossed. He gives me a side-long glare before offering me his hand. "Come on, little coward," he says disapprovingly.

I hesitate before taking it and he pulls me up in one sudden movement and catches me in another. I lean against him as we walk slowly back to the tree and he puts his arm around me tightly and I nestle against him. I try to laboriously catch my breath as I sit back down against the tree, Edward sitting next to me, and then we both share another peaceful moment of silence, staring out past the meadow.

I realize I enjoy these moments more, these moments with Edward where we are simply together talking and messing around and having fun, rather than all of that physical stuff that we did at Mike Newton's and even in the stall of the girls bathroom, where it was so surreal and terrifying and I couldn't make any sense of it all.

These moments meant more to me, almost. And if this is what it would take, what I would have to do in order to show Alice and Rosalie how serious I was about Edward – and how serious he was about me even, no matter how baffling that prospect was - how he truly was a kind, beautiful person and that those rumours weren't true at all, then I would do it willingly, even if it did take a year or two to convince them.

Because I felt what Edward and I had so far was something special - something worth keeping.

I just didn't know how to go about it with him...

I look over at Edward and find him smiling his usual closed-mouth twitch. Well, this should make it easier, I told myself.

"Edward, there's something I need to say..." I admit quietly, reluctantly. Edward stares at me, still smiling innocently; painfully oblivious to what is going on right now. He positions his body so he can look at me directly and I take this as a reassuring thing.

He chuckles a bit at my reluctance, looking wickedly amused.

I hesitate, swallowing hard. "While I'll be the first to admit that I have no experience in relationships whatsoever..." I begin, nervous, staring down at a freckle on my wrist. "After what happened at Mike Newton's party with Alice, I feel as if..." I falter. I don't know how to explain exactly, and without hurting Edward's feelings.

Edward leans away from me, cocking his head to the side, probably confused about the reasons behind the uncomfortable edge to my voice. Okay Bella, get it over with, I tell myself. Deep breath.

I look away from him, taking a deep breath, and then I try again, "Edward, I like you _so _much." I shake my head, not really knowing how to put it into words. I listen to the Cicadas singing in the trees above us for a long moment, wishing this was easy.

"Bella," he prompts apprehensively, taking my hand and playing with my fingers. "You're making me very anxious." The soft touch of his skin against mine distracts me momentarily and I sigh contently.

The sun leaking out from the branches above us is warm and comforting against my skin and I lean my head against the tree truck and clamp my teeth together in frustration. Why couldn't I just do this in the easiest way possible without Edward getting the wrong impression that I didn't feel things about him in _that_ way?

"All right," Edward says with a low pleasant sounding chuckle, and he turns to face me, looking frustrated. "I'm going to hack your body up lovingly in little divided pieces and bury them back there" – he waves a hand vaguely behind us – "in the woods if you don't tell me..." he teases, and I smile at him ruefully.

After an unbearable moment of silence, I hang my head and start with explaining as best as I possibly could. "Well, words cannot explain how, um, much I like you..." I mumble incoherently before raising my voice, "But, I feel as if we're taking things a little too fast..." I didn't glance over to see his reaction, to see if I'd hurt him or not but it didn't stop me from wishing I could disappear, wishing that I could bury myself for being so wretched toward him right now.

I sneak a peek over at him, but he is looking away from me so I can't read his face to see if I've hurt him or not.

After another long pitiful moment of silence, Edward stands, dusting the dirt and dead grass off of his trousers. I caught sight of his face for a second – a perfect poker face – before he produced his crumpled packet of cigarettes out of his pocket; it was a clear indicator that what I said had in fact bothered him.

To make matters all the more worse, he started searching frantically for his matches to light a cigarette and I knew he mustn't have had one on him then because he looked disappointed. I stood up a little too quickly, holding the tree for support before dusting my own clothes off.

Edward stares down at his sneakers for a long moment, bronze hair falling into his eyes and unlit cigarette between his lips. I move closer toward him, wanting to break the awful space between us. "So, first you say you love me and now you say you like me?" Edward asks after a moment, his voice soft and muffled. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and sighs loudly. "You can't have it both ways, Bella. Either you love me or you don't..."

I lean forward and rest my forehead on his chest. "I think we should just... hangout like we sort of were today and talk and..." I keep my face hidden, pressed against his shirt. "Not get so focused on the physical side of it right now." I sigh. "I think it'll help with Alice, too," I add hopefully. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, wishing everything was so easy and uncomplicated.

With Edward, I've never had a former relationship to base what we have on. There are so many things I felt like I must be doing wrong – clearly if Alice was so quick to deem us inappropriate. We hadn't even labelled ourselves that inevitable term "boyfriend and girlfriend" yet so... I didn't exactly know _what _we had together.

Edward closes his eyes and rests his forehead against mine and I stay still for a very long moment wishing I knew what to do. When he reopens his eyes, he looks back at me with a heartbreaking bleak and grim expression on his face, and before I could register what was happening, he took tight hold of me by my elbow and dragged me along away from the tree. I stumbled, not surprisingly for me, and slipped on the grass.

I lay there for a moment, thinking this was another one of our games or Edward's payback of some sort, but then Edward turns around and strides back the way he came and before I knew what was happening, I saw blood on Edward's fists and he was hitting the trunk of the tree as fast as he could and as hard as he could. "She's infantile!" I heard him say at the top of his lungs with every hit. "Childish!"

Being eyewitness to such a violent and yet, similarly heartbreaking thing as Edward hurting himself, it terrified me more than anything in the world. I thought it was the worst thing to ever see and I started crying because I never thought I could ever see anything so painful.

"Stop it," I managed, swallowing hard.

Only he didn't listen.

I stood up slowly, not wanting to fall down again and ran over to him.

"Stop it, Edward," I sobbed again, grabbing his arm this time and pulling him away from the tree.

He doesn't dare meet my gaze and I try to hold his hands to stop him from hurting them again. There's an awful amount of blood, his knuckles grazed and cut.

"Edward," I cry, trying to catch my breath.

I pull him to me by the collar of his shirt, wrapping my arms around his neck as tight as I could and I feel the warmth of his wet face against my neck. I feel the trembling of his body through the heavy layering of his clothing, and I lift a hand up to his hair, twisting my fingers through the strands.

I had never seen Edward like this before; I wondered if it was something new or if he hides these moods well. Whatever it was, I found it unnerving. It made me wonder if Alice's words about making certain I stay away had eaten away at him more than he let on. I didn't know whether to try touch his face or not, so I kept very still, holding his body to mine. It depressed me; I was faced with a new Edward that I didn't know, a new Edward that I couldn't seem to understand or know how to comfort.

"I'm sorry, love," I hear him say after a long moment, his voice in my ear, coming out as a low whisper and shaking.

I take this as a welcoming sign and I reach my other hand up and touch his face, stroking along his jaw line with my fingertips, feeling the rough prickly stubble on his chin. When I look at his face, his skin is pale and blotchy, his hair sticking in all possible directions from the way my hand has grabbed at it. Seeing him like this, I wanted to hold him in my arms and tell him that I'm sorry for the way Alice treated him today, as pathetic as that sounded. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't going anywhere without him, but I just knew that I couldn't without giving him false hope.


	14. Alone

**A/N:** I own nothing, except plot. All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you so much for your reviews. I really do appreciate it and I am so happy that you are enjoying my story. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Just a quick warning: it contains violence and sexual content. Thanks for reading.

* * *

"Edward, I think you should go to the doctors..."

"Bella, I'm fine. It doesn't matter."

"No, Edward. I really think your hands might be brok-"

Edward slams his fist against the steering wheel and I wince at the loud_ thud_, then the wailing of the horn that follows straight afterwards. "I'll live through it," he only says in a very final tone, his eyes narrowed, looking out the window.

He was quiet all through the drive back to Charlie's. In his own world, almost and I couldn't help but wonder what it was that someone like Edward would think about as a distraction from the dull, constant aching pain he must have felt in his hands right now.

I clasp my hands around my knees, not knowing what to say right now. Obviously, anything I said or did wouldn't have offered Edward any comfort in any way when he was being like this. Calm words just seemed to provoke him, set him off so I just tried to sit very still in my seat, my mouth clamped tightly shut.

I watch silently as Edward leans forward in his seat, opening the compartment on the dashboard that I had failed to even notice before. He rummages around distractedly, finding a bunched up piece of red cloth and he holds it in his shaking hand, daubing at the blood on his knuckles. I hear him hiss through his teeth a few times as he pressed the sheer material to the broken, ripped flesh and when he untangles the red cloth, I realize it's some sort of – scarf?

I couldn't fathom why Edward would have a scarf; it wasn't something the boys at school usually seemed to wear around here. More than often, the boys wore layers of clothing, like the blue and yellow patterned Forks football jerseys or leather jackets layered with flannel shirts. It was a more common fashion statement for the girl's and when I focused even more carefully on the scarf; it almost had a dull pink tint to it. Suddenly the scarf didn't look so red anymore, but a pinkish-red, a very... feminine scarf?

I clasp my hands to my stomach, my fingers twitching in curiosity as I turn my head the tiniest inch, observing the contents in the dashboard. I knew I could steal a few good minutes at the very least to observe without Edward noticing, because his head was bowed, bronzed hair falling into his eyes as he concentrated on wiping the blood mixed with dirt and splinters off his knuckles with the scarf.

There's a square piece of paper – a photograph, perhaps - amongst other things, coiled along the edges, black ink seeping through the whiteness of it. I wanted to reach out, just turn the paper with the lightest of touches, to see what was on the other side, but I knew I couldn't. I ball my hands up into fists, feeling disappointed. It dawned on me that I was too much of a coward...

There was a long, black ballpoint pen, another piece of fabric stained with what resembled petrol and then there was something else... something a bluish-black, metallic, shiny. My fingers twitched again in response as my curiosity peaked to a higher level.

I avert my eyes to my lap as I see Edward move from out of the corner of my eye and then I hear the latch of the open compartment on the dashboard close with a snap. I lift my head to see Edward looking right at me, his hands in his lap, the scarf having already been placed back into its secure place in the compartment.

Some of his elegantly long fingers looked twisted, coiled, and by that alone I could tell he had done enough damage, that his hands must have indeed been broken by the forceful, crushing impact when his knuckles hit the tree. A pang of sadness flows through me at this.

"Edward, I really think you should see a doctor -" I begin, with no hope in my voice. I wasn't certain if he would get angry again or not, but he was so resolute on not seeing a doctor for some unfathomable reason.

Edward chuckles, somehow not humorously, and shakes his head. "Isabella, if you raise the matter one more time, I'm afraid there might be worse inflictions, love," he says quietly after a moment, but the politeness and gentleness of his voice didn't seem to match the furious expression on his handsome face.

I nod silently, staring down at my hands.

Edward sniffs loudly and I peek up to see him unbuckling his belt, leaning over toward me in his seat. He holds onto my leg, giving it a light squeeze and I glance down at it, at the painful swollen redness of his knuckles, before meeting his eyes.

"You cannot begin to understand how crazy you drive me, Bella," he says, squeezing my leg even firmer and then chuckling softly. It doesn't sound forced this time around, it sounds sincere and so I relax a little. I scrutinize Edward's handsome face and he looks conflicted for some reason, distracted. "I see you," he says through clenched teeth looking directly in my eyes, his jaw tight, "your face" - he raises his other hand and brushes a forefinger lightly along my lips, tracing the shape of them - "your body"- he leans closer toward me in his seat, the hand on my leg inching closer up toward my thigh, "in my mind always." His voice shakes and he closes his eyes, looking anguished.

I say nothing, I'm speechless. I stare at his face for a long moment through the silence, wishing I knew what to do.

"Even when I close my eyes, Bella, it's you," he continues when I don't say a word. "Everything I do, I do it for you with the best of intentions because I know it will be beneficial to you." He's talking faster and faster by the minute, and then he stops, opening his eyes. "Beneficial to _us_."

My heart stopped for one single second when he said those words and I finally was able to understand how much Alice's demand pained him.

He stared into my eyes for a long moment, unseeing, and yet it felt as though he had left his body somehow. That there was another Edward in there, an Edward I couldn't seem to recognize or understand. And although he was still the same Edward Cullen in body, in solidity, he didn't seem the same Edward psychologically, as insane as that sounded.

God, silly stupid Bella, I told myself firmly. Quit with the horrifying notions. All right, no more science fiction books for you!

"I want to leave something of myself with you," Edward says suddenly, urgently, and I couldn't understand the implications of his words.

"Edward, I'm sorry about Alic-" I begin to say in a small, wobbly voice.

Before I could register what was happening, Edward was right in my face, breathing strenuously. "_No_!" he said loudly and I recoil at the loud, sharp sound of his voice. I open my mouth to say something, to try console him but before I can manage to slip something out, he puts a hand over my mouth. "I don't want to hear any apologies from you, Isabella, all right?" I try to mumble a response but he presses his palm firmer over my mouth. "Not another word, Isabella." The way he was holding my jaw, I found it impossible to anyway, impossible to move, or scream, or yell expletives.

The close proximity between us was beginning to become overwhelming and his body was heavy and warm on mine, our faces barely inches away from each other. I hear him sigh wistfully above me and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block everything out, as he leans down and presses his lips roughly to the top of my head, the stubble of his chin rubbing the skin raw and his breath hot and uncomfortable and ragged against my forehead.

"You will never find someone who loves you as much as I do, Bella," he says gently, his voice muffled, his lips moving against my forehead and the stubble on his chin leaving my skin tender. "Perhaps it's possible to take love to the point of insanity, but I _do_ love you... in frightening, dangerous ways perhaps."

Edward chuckles above me and for once I found the sound of it unnerving rather than pleasant. Edward starts kissing me again, and I hear him moan a few times before starting to kiss me near my ear. No, no, no. Edward puts his mouth under my ear, pressing his lips underneath the lobe gently several times. The hand that is not holding my mouth shut is starting to roam, exploring the bumps in the middle of my chest, feeling and cupping one of my breasts through the thin fabric of my shirt.

I opened my eyes to find my eyesight blurry, tears leaking.

"Hmm. If I let go of your mouth, will you promise not to resist me?" Edward asks after a moment, his voice a low, soft hum against the skin of my neck. I try to nod against his hand and finally he releases my mouth and I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, his hand that held it finding its way to my hair now.

His hand slides down to my ear and to my neck and he pushes the hair away with his fingers before taking firm hold of the nape of my neck. I try to move my head out of the way, but he's too strong for me. He continues to kiss my neck, trailing along a few times back and forth, his stubble scratching my skin. I hear him sigh loudly again, perhaps in agitation over my lack of willingness and response.

I got to thinking that maybe he would realize I didn't want to do this right now, that he'd take the hint and see that I didn't want to do this yet only it seemed to give him all the more reason to continue.

"I want to feel myself inside you, love," Edward whispered against my neck, frustration evident in his tone. His hand runs down, away from my breast, and my breath hitches in my throat as he slides his hand underneath the opening of my jeans and straight under my underwear.

Holy cow. This wasn't what I wanted at all...

He'll realize I don't want to do this, I said to myself...

He'll realize, I said it over and over.

I stared at nothing in particular in numb shock at his words and actions. "You're so warm, love," he mumbled against my skin before chuckling. My mouth opened to say something, to plead for him to get away from me, to stop, but not a sound came out. I felt sick inside.

I tried to push him away by grabbing the collar of his shirt, but it was too hard for me. Then, Edward sighed before biting my neck with his teeth, so hard that I knew it would draw blood.

I screamed. A long piercing scream in his ear that I knew Charlie wouldn't have had the faintest chance of not overhearing. But when I saw outside the window, Charlie's cruiser was nowhere to be seen. I felt so scared.

No, I kept telling myself. Charlie's just inside watching the game. Soon, he'll look outside the window and will see me out here and will tell Edward off...

Still, I fought against him; I fought as hard as I possibly could and for as long as I possibly could, but then I was beginning to grow quickly tired of struggling against him. Every struggle or movement I made seemed to make the pain more unbearable and his teeth went in deeper and deeper with every move. The sobs threatening to rip through my chest were shaking me.

Edward took his hand out of my pants and leaned back to look at me, his brows furrowed, confused. "I thought this was what you wanted," he said after a moment, quietly, in thought.

"N-n-no," I stuttered, covering my face with my hands.

What I wanted was to be alone, I wanted for Edward to let me get out of the car but, most of all, I wanted Edward to leave and drive away.

"_Don't _hide your face!" he says loudly, clasping both my wrists in his hands and forcing them down. He held my hands to his lap, stroking my hands softly with his fingers, his green eyes sharp on my face, gauging my reaction. "You're very difficult for me to understand as it is, Bella."

Thinking to hell with it, I cried freely, my sobs shaking my body and my lips quivering. I didn't care about hiding it around Edward anymore and I let my body slump forward in the seat. I couldn't look at Edward right now, so I looked anywhere else, anywhere else but at him.

Occasionally through my sobbing, Edward would ask me what was wrong, rubbing my wrists and forearms with gentle pats. My neck started throbbing painfully with every second that went by and I think I finally understood what this all meant: in a way, after getting to know Edward, he meant everything to me; he was almost the ideal person for me. But seeing him like this again, how he so easily disregarded my feelings, it made me feel terrified of him, like I had before in the stall of the girls bathroom.

"Can I ask something of you?" I finally asked when the sobbing had died down, my voice shaking.

It barely took Edward a second to answer. "Anything," he said with an awful amount of passion in his voice. He stroked my chin with his fingers and I forced myself to look at him. His eyes were staring intently into mine. I don't remember ever seeing him blink. Not even once, when looking at me like that.

If this had went differently, I might have even blushed. But it didn't.

"I need to be alone." My voice broke on the last word.


	15. I'll Be Watching You

**A/N: I own nothing, expect the plot. Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.**** No infringement of any sort is intended.** Thank you so much for your reviews, alerts, and favorites. I really do appreciate it and am so thakful that people are actually interested in reading my story. It's appreciated so much and you are all so great. Please keep them coming. Hope you enjoy this chapter in Edward's point of view. :) Thanks so much for reading.

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**ECPOV:**

The following week was hell.

My Bella paid no attention to me. I was simply another nameless student to her in the hallway.

She wouldn't know it, but she was the only one there in the hallways, in classes, in the library. Everyone else was an insignificant blur of heads and silhouettes, a bleak background against a much brighter, brilliant focal point. She disregarded me completely.

One solitary, docile little part of me was joyous over this fact. But the much stronger part of me resented it completely. No, erase that – I resented her.

While I understood that my behaviour in my car was unforgivable, I only presumed it was what she wanted. Somebody like my Bella, who's so tranquil and unsure of herself, it was almost as if it reeked off her, this vociferous cry for understanding and love. It was a pleasure to give her what was necessary. And she disregarded me completely...

Reading about such serious matters in literature, in Bronte and Shakespeare particularly, didn't seem to do these feelings justice; I knew our love is something incredible, something that surpasses all of that. No amount of words or depictions can express entirely how I feel for my Bella.

I now comprehend in more ways than others, how possible and reasonable it is to die from a broken heart. Because when you love someone so unconditionally and completely as I do love my Bella, they become, in a way, absolutely fundamental to your existence. I could go without food and water and shelter for prolonged measures of time than the length I could go without seeing and being near my Bella.

I suppose the sorrowful truth is that I am pining for her, always...

And with that knowledge alone, with the undeniable power she holds over me, it merely gave me new reasons and justifications to resent her.

I observe her in English class, erasing the teachers' lecturing that is resonating dully in my ears. Still, she pays no attention of me, her perceptive eyes remaining on the square of paper she has placed slowly on her desk. Her request was to be alone. Why couldn't she have demanded another that wasn't as impossible and utterly ludicrous as that?

Perhaps she was aware of it.

Perhaps she was aware of the fact that I wouldn't be able to endure life without her and she used it to her advantage. Maybe, just maybe, she was summoned from hell to make me suffer for the misdeeds of a few years ago. Perhaps it was Gods way of punishing me...

Absolutely not, I countered in my head.

Bella was bliss, ecstasy...

Heaven sent.

God couldn't have created a finer specimen when he created Isabella Marie Swan.

When we first met, that glorious day in seventh grade in gym class, the feelings I felt for her simply by watching her as she attempted – and failed quite miserably, I do admit, but with the deepest level of admiration – to play volleyball, were staggering, unnerving. It was as if we were made for one another and she was the lone jigsaw piece that fit the puzzle of my disordered, wretched soul.

I fell in love with her immediately.

In that first moment when I saw her as I was seated on the bleachers, everything was still. Nothing else mattered. There were no others in the room. The tranquillity and passivity after the storm was shortly arriving and I was dying to latch myself onto her and become one and, believe me, no man will ever love a woman with such burning passion as I love my Bella.

No man will simply ever love _her _with the profound level of adoration and commitment I have toward her. And her request was to be_ alone_?

Absurd. Childish. Unreasonable.

Without my Bella, I feel like a lost little child, so alone in this treacherous world. The nights are the worst, the most intolerable. She is the last person I reflect on before I drift unconsciously to sleep and the very first thing I reflect on as I wake the next morning as I dress myself for school.

It's her beautiful, delicate face I always see in the back of my mind.

This week has been the longest and most painful week of my existence. Because when I picture her face, it stays there long after I'm done. It isn't – and will never be – enough to simply sit there and watch her in English class or in the cafeteria as Alice Brandon and Rosalie Hale construct the walls between Bella and I higher and higher, triggering a wedge between us. I long to break them down, send them crashing, demolish them.

And I will very soon when my resentment reaches its peak; I have no doubt about that.

The bell for lunch tolls and disrupts me from my thoughts and I am appreciative of the instant distraction. It's times like these that I'm dying for a cigarette, but I simply don't want to miss the chance of seeing my Bella off. I collect my folder, tucking it under my arm and I follow her, leaving a considerable amount of space between us. My eyes always follow her, the back of her head, that soft dark hair that ripples into the air against the slight breeze as she walks.

I watch her over the sea of insignificant students. She blends in easily, but I refuse to let her go. I refuse to let myself get distracted, even for one momentary second. I anticipate her turning left, straight through the bustling cafeteria doors, but to my surprise – or delight, perhaps – she takes a sharp turn right.

The school library.

I suppose the library will have to suffice for now. A cigarette can wait until later.

I halt by the entrance of the library, allowing a few students to pass me, their shoulders sweeping against me. I am invisible to them, which in all things considered, is what I need right now. There's loud incessant chatter in the hallway and before I open the library doors, I catch sight of myself through the reflection of the glass.

_Edward Cullen, you idiotic boy_, I admonish myself. _Where are your manners? You're not a pubescent, hormone-raging child anymore so there's absolutely no excuse for this whatsoever_... I wipe the drool, the saliva off my chin with the back of my hand and sigh loudly, frustrated with myself.

I try to flatten my hair with my hand, but the stickiness from the gel I've used this morning prevents it from lying flat. _Excellent, you fool_.

"Excuse me," a feminine voice says from behind me and I promptly duck out of her way to see a young girl squeeze past me through the entrance and into the library. I tuck my folder more securely under my arm as I follow her in, trying to seem inconspicuous.

If there's one thing I absolutely loathe about being over six-feet tall, it's the fact that there's no eluding being noticed easily. It's quite the difficult task, but it's a blast if you love a challenge.

Mrs. Goff, my Biology teacher greets me near the counter and I nod in response before turning into the science aisle. I glance behind me a few times, my nerves making me all jittery. Where's my Isabella Marie Swan? I say it over and over in my head a few times, distractedly, humorously.

The library is a beautiful place - quiet, where you can easily immerse yourself in your own delightful thoughts without distractions and disruptions. I could see why Isabella enjoyed it in here so much. I feel the pleasurable stirrings of warmth as I remember years ago, coming here daily, watching Isabella deep in her reading. It was almost a favourite ritual of mine... until for some reason she decided the cafeteria was better, more homely. Perhaps she thought it was better to be surrounded by chatter and the many nameless people she passed in the hallways rather than be solitarily confined in this place with literature under her nose.

I make a fast turn into the classics aisle and have to compose myself before swivelling around and turning in the other direction. Isabella is roaming around, investigating the dull cataloguing system, her head inclined, reading a large, thick paperback novel.

I wondered what she was reading. Shakespeare? No. Emily Bronte? Probably not this time around.

_Isabella. Swan._

I try to walk as softly and slowly as I possibly can, my sneakers squeaking, and I stop level to about where she's standing in the next aisle in estimation.

_Isabella. Cullen._

I duck my head, feigning curiosity over some dusty novel a ledge below me in height and I bend down, my knees cracking as I spot her through the small crack. There's undoubtedly no way possible that she could see me, but I observe her closely through the small leak in the crack. She's beautifully immersed in her reading and she takes her bottom lip into her mouth, biting it as though trying to conceal a smile.

Oh, how I love you, Isabella Marie Cullen.


	16. Begging for Forgiveness

**A/N: All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. **The plot however, is my own. Thanks so much again for your reviews and I really do appreciate them. Please keep them coming. I hope this chapter clears up a few questions. Thanks so much for reading.

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**BSPOV:**

When you put so much faith into one person, it's no surprise that they will always be the one to hurt you the most.

I think the blatant truth was that I pitied Edward. I pitied the fact that he always seemed alone, the fact that he didn't seem to have many friends – yet he fit in well with Jasper and Emmett. I just couldn't comprehend why no one seemed to talk to him at all. I saw how freshman year girls reacted to him – but they never actually talked to him.

I thought that with these past few weeks, I had gotten to know the real Edward Cullen inside and out. But now, all the questions I ever asked him and all the answers he provided me with, everything seemed cryptic when thinking back to it, as though it never really added up. All the answers he gave me just seemed to bring about another plethora of unanswerables. I started to dismally wonder that perhaps there was only a fair few who knew the real Edward Cullen. I thought I was one of them, but clearly I'm not.

When I awoke the next morning after what happened in his car I was not only still tired, but edgy as well. I didn't know how to react when I saw Edward again – or when I see Alice again, for that matter. I knew Alice would be so angry with me, but I found I couldn't stand listening to her yelling at me. I knew that, for some reason, I would break easily if she did.

I feel my cell phone vibrate in my jean pocket and I quickly reach for it. I flip open my phone, cradling it between my ear and shoulder as I move around the kitchen, making an early start on Charlie's breakfast. "H-hello?"

There's silence on the other end.

I feel a wave of anger as I plop two slices of bread into the toaster. "Hello?" I say again into the receiver, a little louder this time.

My first thought was that it was probably Rose or Alice – Emmett, even – messing with me. But then I heard ragged breathing on the other line, the rush of air being expelled into the receiver sending the line crackling. I stand completely still, listening. Who was on the other line? For a moment I think someone might be crying and I feel a surge of pity toward them.

"Are you all right?" I ask quietly into the receiver. Charlie strides into the kitchen and takes a seat, pulling his handgun from his holster. He meets my confused gaze and stares at me inquisitively. I shrug.

There's silence on the end of the line again and I resolve the matter instantly by closing my phone shut. I place it carefully on the table and sigh in frustration.

"One of the kids from school?" Charlie asks in a deep croak and I watch as he pulls the chamber open on his handgun, removing the silver bullets. Charlie and I hadn't been particularly verbose with each other lately after what happened with Jacob Black being beaten so I knew this was just as hard for him as it was for me right now.

I sigh again. "I don't know." I turn away from him just at the right time as the pieces of toast spring up in the toaster and I mess around for a few minutes, buttering it, still deep in thought. It couldn't have been... Edward who called me, could it? His name alone was enough to leave me in a new state of panic; I hoped he hadn't hurt himself again or something of the sort.

I put Charlie's plate carefully on the table before running my hands over my face. My hands are shaking.

"Isn't it a little too warm out to be wearing a turtleneck, Bells?" Charlie asks, interrupting my unpleasant thoughts.

I stare at him for a moment, blinking, then look out the window. I hadn't realized how much of a nice day it is. My stomach sinks; I was hoping to use the cold temperature of Forks as an advantage, a cover-up for the reasons as to why I was wearing a turtleneck sweater today. How ghastly it would be, I thought, shuddering, if Charlie had even the slightest inkling to what was _under_ his teenage daughter's brown turtleneck.

"I'm still really cold," I lie, feigning shivers, making a show of wrapping my arms around myself. Charlie seems convinced. He makes a low grunting noise in understanding before picking up a buttered piece of toast and crunching on it noisily.

Phew...

After what happened in Edward's car, after I jumped out and watched patiently as his Volvo glided smoothly down the bend and out of sight, I ran straight up to my room and flung my backpack onto my bed before bolting into the bathroom. I had flipped the lock so Charlie or anyone couldn't get in.

I didn't enjoy the thought of having to explain my reasons for crying when he got home so I stayed in there for a long moment, underneath the soothing warm spray of the shower. It took a very long time for it to sooth and relax my tense, stiff muscles and when it finally did, I sunk down low to the tiles, my back resting against the cold stone wall.

Afterwards, I remember drying myself with the towel and I was really sore in places where I didn't exactly know why I was. Not only my neck, but in my crotch area. When I looked at my face in the mirror, I had looked paler than usual and the skin of my neck was bruised, purple, with several puncture marks from Edward's teeth breaking through the first layer of skin. Thankfully, the water in the shower must have washed away all the dried blood that came with it and I didn't have to endure seeing all of that.

When I got to school in the morning, I walked into the cafeteria with my head down, holding the straps of my backpack closer over my shoulders with my hands for some kind of reassurance. I didn't look and check to see if Edward was in the room or not. I just sat quietly in a chair, waiting for Alice or Rose.

When Rose saw me, she had the biggest victorious smile on her beautiful face for some unfathomable reason. "You escaped Alice," she said as she sat next to me, squeezing my forearm gently with her hand. "Well, I'm glad at least things are sort of working out with you and Edward Cul -"

"- Please don't mention Edward to me ever again, Rose," I say abruptly, staring down at my hands. I didn't mean to say it, so demanding and harsh, but it just automatically came straight out of my mouth. I straighten up in my seat, whispering, "At least not for a while, anyway..."

It amazed me how much that name now made me break out in gooseflesh. I could feel Rosalie's eyes staring at me, startled and when I turn to look at her, she's fixing up her blond hair, looking away from me and out the cafeteria window. I knew she was only doing it to give herself the longest time possible to think my reaction over.

Rosalie pauses with fixing up her hair and looks over at me. "Why Bella?" she asks apprehensively after a moment, leaning closer to me in her seat. "Did something happen?"

I look at the expression on her face and it surprises me at how concerned she looks. I just couldn't get over how wretched I was for not taking her concerns into consideration all along... perhaps her and Alice knew Edward better than anyone... knew about his terrible mood swings or anger...

My face all of a sudden feels wet and I wipe my cheeks with the sleeves of my turtleneck sweater hurriedly. Great, I'm crying. I hug my arms close to my chest, shaking my head. "That's the thing, Rose - I _don't_ exactly know what happened myself."

I think yesterday through, how some of Edward's actions and words didn't seem to add up. I didn't know what to think and when I did think about it for long periods of time, like I did last night, it just hurt, as though a great big hole had been punched right through my chest.

"It's like he has these mood swings and... I don't..."

"Take your time sweetie, and I'll listen." She pats my arm affectionately. "And, if you don't mine me asking, it was _him_ you snuck off with when Alice was trying to reign you in?" I nod, smiling ruefully. Rose laughs quietly, cupping a hand over her mouth. She shakes her head. "Alice was so majorly pissed, so I'll give you merits there..."

Poor Alice.

Rose stares at me for a moment, looking anxious. "Can I pose another question?" She raises a hand and toys lightly with the collar of my sweater. "Is he the reason why you're wearing a turtleneck on the hottest day of August?" she casually inquires.

I had to laugh ruefully at her question. Although it was in bad taste, Rosalie just seemed to know me so well. I nod silently, staring at my hands so I don't have to see her reaction.

When I look up, I see Alice bouncing her way over to us. Surprisingly, Jasper isn't anywhere to be seen. I brace myself, because I know what this means; Alice is going to try talk to me.

"Hello, Bella," she says in a high-pitched squeak, sounding happy and, more surprisingly, not angry at me at all.

She smiles at me in a friendly way before taking the empty seat next to me. I look at her and I feel as if I want to cry. How could I have gone against Alice's better judgment? I didn't know how she knew about Edward's mood swings and anger, but when I think about it now, she was only trying to be a true friend, trying to protect me. I had to apologize to her.

"Alice, I'm -" I begin anxiously. "I'm so sorry about everything." I peer up at her and before I can register what's happening, Alice flings her arms around me and hugs me tightly. I pat her on the back a few times until she finally releases me.

"Bella, I'm sorry, too," she says apprehensively, lowering her voice. "I was acting childish; I didn't mean to make you upset in any way, it's just I plain and simply _don't_ like Edward Cullen."

I strive to digest this, but I still can't find any reasons as to why she doesn't like him. "Why don't you like... _him_?" I ask after a moment, my voice wobbly.

"I was acquainted with his last girlfriend. Her name was Tanya Denali."

"Right," I say, just for something to say. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know or not. "How long were they together?"

"She said two months at the very least. She wasn't exactly counting."

I nod, staring down at my fingernails. Why did Alice telling me this feel so wrong? I knew it wasn't her place to say about Edward's past relationships, but I couldn't even stand being alone in the same room with him right now, let alone asking him this. For some reason, I knew he'd lie about all of it, edit a few things out, and make it seem like a clean break...

"She said the first few weeks went well," Alice continues when I don't say anything. "A few weeks in she said he started getting angry at her for basically no reason, like when she couldn't return his calls or when she was out with friends. He's got a rotten temper underneath all of that gentle disposition." I am unmoved by this. I knew that side of him now. "When she tried to break it off with him, he kept calling and calling. At one stage he actually came to her house, got down on his knees and begged." I suddenly feel uncomfortable at her words, wringing my hands.

"He said that they parted ways in a very sensible fashion," I tell her quietly, confused.

"Well, I don't know." She pauses and when I look up at her face, she looks deep in thought. "I haven't seen her since. I think she moved state as the last resort to be away from him." How reassuring of you Alice! I definitely didn't want to know anymore right now.

My curiosity got the better of me. "What did she, um, look like?" I ask.

Alice smiles widely and I get the impression they were pretty close friends at one stage. "She had long blond hair to her shoulders, blue eyes..." She speaks of her with fondness. "I remember joking with her, teasing her because she had a penchant for scarves."

Scarves?

"When I think about her, I actually start to miss her," Alice says sadly, the smile disappearing now. "I wonder what she's doing now..." She's quiet for a long moment, remising on this Tanya Denali.

But scarves?

I remember last night in Edward's car... he was daubing the blood off his broken knuckles and fingers with a... pink-tinted scarf. Could the scarf belong to Tanya Denali? Surely if she had a penchant for scarves then there was no other reason to explain why he had one. It was obviously hers. Perhaps Edward kept it as safekeeping? Thinking back to it, it was obvious he still wasn't over his last girlfriend.

All this sudden talk about Edward Cullen made me feel sick inside. I needed distractions... and the library was the place for good distractions.

I told Alice and Rosalie that I'd meet them in class and I got to my feet, ignoring the loud happy chattering in the cafeteria and hallways as I went. I meandered through the hallways, squeezing through the clusters of students as I headed into the library. I tried hard not to think about him, and what Alice had said... A sudden shiver passes through me and I hold my arms to my chest as I enter the entrance of the library.

Great. Why was Edward Cullen in the library?

He's near the counter, flipping through the bin of returns, his bronzed hair falling into his forehead. He's so handsome, dressed beautifully in a white dress shirt and dark jeans... but he's not the person I thought he was.

At this very moment, he looks up and I can tell he's seen me standing there, gaping at him like some kind of idiot. My mouth opened to say something, to tell him to keep away in an act of self-defence, but nothing came out. I quickly turned away from him, trying to think calmly, my pace steady as I walked down one of the aisles.

I glance behind my shoulder quickly and there he is, Edward Cullen, scampering down the same aisle. Holy crap. The look of furious concentration on his face takes my breath away. Was he following me? Was he trying to speak to me, to apologize over what happened? Breathe, I remind myself as I turn down the classics aisle. He's probably not following _you_...

I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it would not go down easily.

He'll attack you again, the pessimistic voice said in my head. I began to feel sick inside.

"Bella," he said from right behind me, his voice shaking.

My hands start to shake and I desperately want to vomit but I try to keep it down. I shake my head, trying to ignore him, walking into the Biology aisle in a trance. No, I kept telling myself calmly. He doesn't want to speak to you. He just happens to be in the same aisle...

I stop at the end of the aisle, pretending to be preoccupied with finding something.

"Isabella." His voice was right behind me, in my ear, gentle, and he was breathing strenuously. I close my eyes, wanting to cry, but I knew I couldn't. I couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he scared me now more than ever before.

"Please leave me alone, Edward," I say quietly, as controlled as I possibly could.

I stay very still for a long moment, waiting, listening carefully but he doesn't move an inch. Oh God. Edward gathers all of my hair into his hands gently and I reopen my eyes, trying to control my fury as much as I can, as I pull my hair away from him and push it behind my back. I try to clench my mouth as tight as possible before facing him because I was afraid I was going to cry in front of him and I didn't want to do that right now.

He lets his green eyes roam aimlessly over my body, taking in the turtleneck sweater I'm wearing, my black jeans. I pull the straps of my backpack more securely over my shoulders uncomfortably, turning my back on him as I walk slowly down the classic literature aisle.

He easily catches up with me, striding along, his sneakers squeaking with every step. "You're not very friendly today," Edward observes quietly and it suddenly makes me feel even more furious. I turn to face him and once again he's standing closer to me than I expected. "You're not reading Shakespeare or the classics anymore, I see," he says, gesturing with a bruised, purple-tinged hand toward the books in the aisle.

Edward raises a hand and picks up a handful of my hair. I watch nervously as he inclines his head, holding the ends to his nose. I breathe slowly and deeply, watching him. He looks miserable. But then so am I.

"W-will you please..."

Edward looks defensive all of a sudden, waiting. "What?"

"Leave me alone..." I turn around so I don't have to see his face any longer, walking back down the long Biology aisle. A few students are rummaging around, their backs turned against each other, looking for a book, and this knowledge placates me; I didn't know how I would deal if something happened with Edward here in the library of all places.

"That's the thing, love," I hear him say from right behind me. "I can't." He says it firmly, as though it's a well-known fact. "I don't exactly know why..." he continues, mumbling softly, and I wasn't certain if he was even speaking to me now or not, "perhaps it has something to do with these maternal instincts to nurture." He chuckles and I shiver at the sound of it. I squeeze past one of the students, holding my arms close to my chest. "Isabella, this is completely ridiculous."

I could tell Edward was starting to lose his patience with all of this; his voice is starting to rise to a higher level.

"Bella," he says again, louder, though clenched teeth.

If I keep walking, he'll go away, I tell myself. He'll get tired of all of this.

He catches my arm tightly by my elbow and swivels me around to face him. I feel so invisible right now. No one in the library seems to look over, to notice the tension between us. Why can't they see that he is bothering me? Why won't a teacher come and tell him to stay away?

He stares into my eyes for a long moment – I don't exactly know what he sees. He's so tall compared to me and, all of a sudden, it seems so menacing, unnerving. He sighs loudly and raises a shaking hand, covering his eyes. He rubs his forehead for a long moment, before taking the hand away and looking back down at me intently.

"Name the conditions," he says after a moment, emphatically, through clenched teeth.

I stare at him, confused. Why does he look at me like that, as though I'm the most fascinating person in the world to him when I'm the most normal, boring girl? It didn't make any sense at all... I begin to remember what Alice said, about his ex-girlfriend Tanya, and it gives me more reasons to feel scared right now. Did he do the same thing to her? Was the reason she wore scarves the very same reason I was wearing a turtleneck sweater right now?

"I'll do anything you want," Edward says in a hushed whisper. He smiles crookedly, at something unknown to me, his green eyes twinkling, and then he takes my hand gently. I have a powerful urge to pull away, maybe even knee him in the groin and make a run for it, use one of those self-defence tactics I've learnt. But I knew it would only provoke him.

I watch his handsome face carefully as he tilts his head, the dim light of the library above us raking in on his face and I am filled with despair. It's obvious he has lost more weight and I'm instantly conflicted with thoughts of both comforting him and heartlessly making a run for it. He sniffs loudly and I watch in confusion as he falls to his knees. Oh, God. He's not going to – is he? Please no!

He sighs loudly again, not daring to look at me, and then he presses his lips to my palm. The softness of his lips was overshadowed by the prickling of the stubble on his chin against the skin of my palm, leaving the skin feeling raw and dry. It was so bizarre. It was amazing how Edward could turn something so innocent and tender, into something so sensual and erotic... But, wait – what am I thinking?

"Edward, please don't," I whisper down at him, swallowing hard. I'm suddenly aware that we are in the library of all places, Edward on his knees and looking so miserable and desperate. Yet why wasn't the librarian coming down the aisle to tell Edward off? Why wasn't anybody noticing that this isn't what I wanted and that Edward was bugging me?

"Isabella Marie," Edward says quietly, wistfully, and at last he looks up and meets my gaze. It was oddly overpowering, Edward on his knees and me towering over him for once in my life. He sniffs loudly again, stroking my palm with his fingers, his bronzed hair falling into his eyes. "If you'd desire nothing more than for me to jump in the middle of a moving train – I'll do it." He says it so passionately that I momentarily dazed by his words. "If you'd like me to get down on my knees and humbly beg for your forgiveness like I am right now in the school library – I'll do it." He looks into my eyes directly. "I'm not afraid to make an idiot of myself, Bella. My only fear is losing you..."

He gives me a pleading look before pressing his lips to my palm once more.

Oh, Edward. What was I supposed to do?

No, the voice in my head said. He isn't the person you thought he was. Think of Tanya and end this right now so it doesn't get any worse later on...

I couldn't keep it down any longer and so I pull my hand free, rushing out of the library and into the girls' bathroom. I heaved into the basin, throwing up nothing in particular. I sank down low to the tiles and closed my eyes. How could he look at me like that? When everybody else is telling me one thing and he seems so completely different, what was I supposed to do or think?


	17. Exist Together

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Twilight. All characters belong to their rightful owner, Stephenie Meyer. No infringement of any sort is intended. **Thank you so much again for your reviews.I understand there is a lot more questions that will be solved in time to come. Thanks so much for sticking with me and I'm so glad that you actually like my story. You are all so kind! Really hope you enjoy this chapter. :) And please keep your reviews and thoughts coming, I love hearing them.

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**ECPOV:**

She ran away from me? The feelings that coursed through me were both unnerving and exhausting. One part of me was delighted, a voice that yelled Good, smart girl, run away before this monstrosity takes hold of me again... but the other more dominant part of me was infuriated.

How childish, unreasonable, absurd, she is. Of course, she wasn't really all those things. It's just she didn't seem to respond to my request for forgiveness in the right way. There were a lot of other ways she could have responded that would have pleased me. Only she chose to run into the bathroom and abandon me in the library like some kind of whining dog?

The masochistic side of me adored her even greater because of it...

On the drive home after school, it felt as if the road was never-ending and I was driving for hours, when in reality I was driving fast, pushing high speeds and not particularly feeling concerned of what could have happened in consequence. I simply could not care if a police officer advised me to pull over and fined me for speeding, nor could I be concerned if I crashed into a tree and died as a cause.

Because it kept coming back to me, in my mind, this unpleasant feeling, me on my knees like some kind of wounded dog and my Isabella absconding to the girl's bathroom. I was more than a little anxious of what she must think of me now, the way I acted. I suspected she would be laughing about it now, probably gossiping about it to Alice Brandon and Rosalie Hale. It made me all the more infuriated, for the most part.

Her unyielding hold on me was becoming ridiculous...

I was so furious over all of this that I felt I could do anything. I won't go so far as to say I could have killed my Bella, because that thought alone was the highest level of blasphemy and not to mention inconceivable, something that hurt me to no end.

No one should expect me to go on without her. Especially her – she's my heart. She's part of me, so that notion was merely out of the question.

My temper, I confess, often got the better of me at times (as it did in my car and words cannot express how regretful I am over it) and I'd have to resort to daydreaming of her as a way to control myself. This week has been the worst without her. Still, I absolutely relished it. They were always the most beautiful thoughts, the most blissful...

In my daydreams we were often married, husband and wife. Sometimes we'd be lying side by side and she'd be sleeping, and I'd be holding her. Oh, my Bella. She was always so warm and gentle and vulnerable. Occasionally we were strangers where we met on the subway; I did things that made her admire me and she would confess her love to me, in which I'd joyfully return.

Whenever I contemplate such things now, I feel like crying as I did at Newton's at the near climax of our lovemaking before we were so pitifully interrupted by Alice Brandon. It was absolutely apparent that Alice Brandon loathed me and I had no interest in asking her why. I suppose I knew her reasons why all along. However it made things increasingly difficult as far as my Bella and I are concerned.

For some incomprehensible reason I found myself driving toward Isabella's house. It was something that happened out of habit. It was as if something imaginary in the air was drawing me in every time, like it was simply against my will almost. I felt anxious as I took a sharp turn into her street and I opened the glove compartment and pulled a photograph out as a distraction to soothe myself. I was also perhaps pretending to observe the photograph before transiently inspecting her driveway.

To my absolute delight, her father isn't home yet.

It gave me a considerable amount of time, I decided. I jostled the gear into park directly across the road from her house as I cut the ignition. The curtains in the room I'm presuming is the lounge room were drawn open and I could nearly see inside. I wondered what my Bella was doing right now, if she was thinking of me like the way I was thinking of her. But there's the irony, there's hardly any hour in the day or evening that I am not thinking of my Bella. I was very doubtful I had a hold on her as potently as the permanent hold she had on me.

Some days I humoured myself with the notion that my need for Bella was, in a way, comparable to the powerful need of a fix to a heroin addict. Without it – or should I say, without her – life is unbearable. You feel drained, thirsty to quench your need, and when you do manage to get that small, meek fix, it's simply never enough. You must come back for more, which is why, in all sincerity; I'm here outside my Isabella's house in the middle of the evening.

I think it's fair to say, I'm consumed by my need. It's the very reason for my existence.

I was determined, possibly stubborn even...

I was unquestionably resolute that those glorious daydreams had to happen, that Isabella had to be mine and mine alone in matrimony. I began to think of ways and means – all the things I would have to eventually do to make it existent. Not merely some daydream I've conjured up inside my head, but something genuine.

There was the notion that if I could steal her away from Alice Brandon and Rosalie Hale, eventually she'd have to see the good points in me, she'll understand and, most of all, she'll love me with the same level of adoration and commitment that I have for her, always.

Just at that very moment, a dark silhouette moves against the light, dull background through the window and I could practically feel my heart beating faster at this magnificent discovery. I had no doubts in my mind that it was my Bella, the object of my love and obsession.

If only I_ could_ steal her perhaps, and drive her to somewhere exotic, perhaps to Las Vegas, and get married... Of course, it wouldn't be all that traditional – and I knew my Bella deserved so much more than that - but the constant afterthought of living in a nice, modern house with our own children, it was absolutely magnificent.

It was well worth the risk...

Because I know that even if I lived to be a hundred years old I would never find someone like Isabella. No one shall – or can – take her place. I love Bella and Bella only. I will always love her, even when I'm dead.

The very thought of her with another man is inconceivable, maddening...

Because I will simply not live in a world where Edward Cullen and Isabella Swan do not exist together in matrimony.

_I will not have it_.


	18. Truly His At Last

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plotline. Everything else belongs to the great Stephenie Meyer. No infringement of any sort is intended.** Thank you so much for your reviews, alerts, and favorites, I really do appreciate them. It means so much to me! Hope this chapter isn't a disappointment, I promise the next several POV's will be in Bella's. Thanks so much for reading.

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I found I simply could not waste time.

Considering I was already at Isabella's house while her father was out, I decided that action had to be taken right now. Of course, timing and preparation is everything, however the only object I needed right now to accomplish this was my Isabella herself.

It was almost dark outside, the sky overcast. It worked well to my advantage. I would be inconspicuous at the very least, I amended. But it didn't do much to placate the sudden butterflies in my stomach as I considered my Bella's reaction. Would she come quietly or would she make the loudest noise possible to arouse neighbours suspicions? The fact that I didn't know haunted me.

But having Isabella all to myself was well worth the risk...

I vacated my car, leaving it there on the side of the road opposite her house, the key still in the ignition. I tried to quieten my thoughts as I strode over to her house. My nerves were making me jumpy and I glanced around the area a few times instinctively before climbing up the steps.

I began to feel even more anxious as I deliberated over what my Bella would think of me. Would she understand that this was an act out of love and desperation? Would she despise me for it? Again, not being certain of the answers haunted me and induced more nerves into me.

I observed her garden as I knocked on the door several times. There was quite a few large trees planted outside what I was presuming was her window. The branches seemed to curve, offering shelter, rapping against the window. A shadow came toward the door, Isabella, and I braced myself as she opened it, peering at me from through the narrow crack of the door.

"Marry me," I whispered and before I could read the expression on her face, I lunged into action, throwing myself and weight straight into the door.

My poor love. She must have been so confused, but I simply couldn't care then. She struggled as I held her to me and she continued to do so as I put my hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming, from causing too much noise to rouse the neighbours.

She was mine and this sudden knowledge gave me a stirring of excitement and warmth toward her.

She continued struggling; however I was naturally stronger than her. I elevated her into the air by her waist, letting go of her mouth and she gave me a fierce cold look as I carried her to my car. It was unnerving, upsetting. I didn't want her to be afraid of me, but I could tell she was. And, in a way, it was understandable; I suppose it's not every day your fiancé transports you through an invisible threshold and into his car, despite your struggling.

I wanted to tell her that I was so excited, that she couldn't possibly grasp how much I loved her and how much of a wonderful husband I'll make to her, but she kept her beautiful face hidden underneath all of her lovely dark hair as I tied her wrists securely to the steering wheel.

I didn't linger around for much longer at her house, particularly because I didn't exactly know when Chief Swan would be arriving home. I didn't even gather any of her belongings; I just went straight to my side of the car, started the ignition and drove out of there as fast as I possibly could.

I suppose Bella assumed I would attack her if she made too much of a noise because she all of a sudden fell quiet in her seat, as though she'd given up the fight. I couldn't help but get the hope that she was only silent because she truly desired this too. Only seconds later, she began to cry and I longed to comfort her. The need to comfort her was overwhelming.

"This is absurd, Bella. Why are you crying?"

She wasn't very pleased when I asked her that. In fact, I believe the correct term was that she was infuriated. I found her adorable regardless, how she bent down, rested her head against the dashboard, tried to cover her face with her hands. I felt profound stirrings of warmth over the sight, but the fact that she would be my wife in a mere ten hours time in estimation may have contributed greatly to that.

I had to laugh. Of course, there was nothing remotely humorous about this at all. But, like her I was certain, I was feeling anxious about the whole occasion we were to endure also.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" I enquired after a considerably long moment of driving.

My dear Bella was growing disturbingly silent in her seat and it made me all the more anxious about what we would be doing. She made quite a poor attempt in unhooking her hands from the steering wheel but, thankfully, I attached the tie with double knots so it wouldn't be unproblematic for her to make an escape. Every time I observed her twisting her wrists this way and that way it made me feel shattered inside.

Why was she doing this to me? She was more than aware that I would never dream of hurting her and, in actuality, she was giving herself wounds and rope burns by attempting to struggle. It haunted me. It made me feel disgusting inside. But then again, perhaps she knew this; perhaps she was using this to her advantage to make me feel even more monstrous by the second.

"Careful, Isabella," I say quietly, trying to placate her. "Keep struggling and you'll dislocate something, love."

Then she said something that absolutely shocked me.

"Like you care, Edward," she said in a torturous voice that sounded as if she was choking.

I couldn't believe my ears. I refused to believe it. Was she questioning my love for her? Surely she couldn't be. I had to immediately compose myself, keep myself in check. It wasn't an easy task, I can assure you. A gentleman always controls himself in front of a beautiful, dainty woman... now wouldn't be the precise time to lose control. I was certain it was a deliberate provoking, and I didn't give her anything more than a quick look.

Whenever I did look at her, I softened like putty, so I spared myself all of that embarrassment and refused to glance over at her any longer. I didn't seem to feel joyous or thrilled anymore, I felt cold. Most of all, I felt nothing in particular any more.

_She's absurd_, I continued telling myself. _She knew I adored her more than anything in the world_.

Soon, it was becoming darker. There's something oddly unnerving about the later hours of the evening. I didn't particularly like the idea of having my Bella sleep in the seat of my car bound to the steering wheel. I wanted her to be comfortable. Most of all, I wanted her to feel protected.

"Are you cold, love?" I solicited through what seemed like hours of unbearable silence between us. My dear Bella looked shaken, but I couldn't decipher through the lights reflected in the mirror if it was simply because she was cold and uncomfortable or not. "It's not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable in any way..." She gave me a sharp look but I wasn't being sarcastic.

She didn't say anything in response but I would not have that; I would not have my Bella feeling cold and uncomfortable right now in my presence, so I took off my jacket and draped it over her body. She made a faint noise – a sigh of contentment and delight perhaps at the immediate warmth – and in turn, it made me feel relaxed and good about all of this.

I couldn't seem to get beyond how vulnerable and gentle she looked right now, how adorable with my jacket over her. She would have to wear my clothes more often, I countered in admiration.

I stared at her for a prolonged moment, unashamed when she met my gaze, her body seeming to twist slightly in discomfort. She was so beautiful, and soon she would officially be all mine. It should be an offense for someone to look as enticing as she did right now in my jacket. I don't think I could ever get over how overwhelming her hold on me was.

"W-why are you looking at me like that?" she asked me quietly, anxiously.

What was I supposed to say? How could I have enlightened her in the best way possible without offending her? Oh, love, I'm simply staring at you because you're such a delightful, enchanting creature... Words were simply never enough, nor were actions for that matter.

I decided not to reply to her question and looked away from her, an unrecognizable feeling stirring inside of me. Eventually Bella slowly feel into a restless slumber and I surreptitiously loosened the ties hold on her wrists. Observing her when she slept, it brought back those daydreams of watching her and it gave me an immense feeling of satisfaction. Only I didn't quite conjure up in my mind the heartbreaking image of her head thrashing around against the seat and her mumbling in her sleep. Still, it was quite enjoyable listening in on her sleep talking.

What made it all the more delightful was the fact that she said my name – not only once – but several times throughout the night. I truly had died and gone to heaven. The way she said my name, so innocently and full of need, it made me feel for once in my life that she actually did admire me in some way or another.

I truly felt humbled because of it and when she awoke the next morning like Sleeping Beauty, she obviously observed that I was apparently in good spirits. I couldn't say the same for her, however. She complained about being thirsty and desiring cereal and I couldn't deny her that. After all, a true doting husband doesn't deny his wife of her wishes.

"You talked in your sleep," I informed her proudly and she looked quite embarrassed, her cheeks turning a magnificent shade of red. Naturally, my insides felt like putty over this reaction and I so wanted to make love to her right now regardless of being on the highway.

"What did I say?" she asked after a moment, resting her forehead on the dashboard and massaging her eyes.

Perhaps I was feeling a little superior and overly delighted because I didn't hesitate to tell her that she said my name throughout the night many times last night. She looked even more abashed over this and the feelings that coursed through me then were overwhelming. I wanted to steal more than a few kisses from her, my sweet angel.

I couldn't face risking her deserting me so I purchased a carton of milk and cereal and made her eat it in the car while I watched her. I don't think she could stomach much and I couldn't blame her; I was anxious in addition and could barely stomach anything myself. I settled on a cigarette, which seemed to soothe some of my nerves but I couldn't seem to come to terms with this torturous fact that I had went about this in the wrong way.

It wasn't as if I was regretting this at all, but what haunted me was that I never did get the opportunity to ask Chief Swan for his daughters hand in marriage. Of course, there wasn't anything remotely traditional about driving to Las Vegas but I felt I owed it to Isabella's father. I needed his blessings otherwise I wouldn't be able to find peace and closure. Isabella wanted to be my wife and I her husband, too, so it wasn't as if I held her against my will or anything and demanded this of her. It wasn't as if I soldered a ring to her hand either so I didn't want her father to perceive this in the wrong way.

Still, she was mine at last...

I have truly died and gone to heaven.


	19. Stupid impatient Volvo owner

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. **:) Thank you so much for your reviews, alerts, and favorites. I really do appreciate it, you are all so great! I hope this chapter isn't a huge dissapointment. Thanks for reading!

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**BSPOV:**

I come to on something incredibly comfortable and soft and I was positive I was sleeping in the safety of my own bed, on my spongy mattress.

"Adorable." Someone speaks above me.

Um, since when do mattresses speak?

I didn't want to open my eyes. I didn't want to believe anything was true. I wanted not only for sleep to consume me, but to never have to wake up ever again. Sleep was my new friend. Underneath my eyelids everything was always still, calm. And, most of all, everything was surprisingly warm. Wait... warm?

"I could get used to a lifetime of this," someone above me says again, their voice silky and gentle.

I try to breathe slowly and deeply, trying to block out the harmonious voice, squeezing my eyes shut even tighter. I try to keep my mind still, with no concerns, free. A warm hand strokes my face.

No, I'm asleep. I try to lay into the foetal position, hugging my arms to my chest, but something lumpy and warm underneath me prevents me from doing so. I'm still dreaming, this is all a miserable dream...

Someone makes a loud grunting noise above me – a very masculine sounding grunt – and then I hear the faint, disturbing crackling of knuckles resounding in my ears. Yikes, what's going on here? I sigh and reluctantly open my eyes, not daring to make any slightest movement of my head for them to notice I'm awake.

Someone is clutching my hip strongly in their hand and I hold my breath in numb shock as they run it slowly up the curve of my back, in a very comforting gesture, their fingertips tracing circles along my spine through the thin fabric of my shirt soothingly. Is someone giving me a massage or something?

It was then that I realized I couldn't quite remember anything from last night. Who was this person who I was laying on that was giving me back massages? All I knew was that I was enjoying it right now. I buried my face in the warm, soft fabric of their shirt, pressing my forehead against them.

They smelt like cigarettes. Wait... cigarettes?

I sit up hurriedly, scrambling to my knees, something draped over my body sliding off of me and onto the floor with a heavy clink. Great, as if things couldn't get any worse than they already are right now. I was not only lying directly on top of Edward Cullen, but I was lying pressed _against_ him.

Holy cow.

He laughs shakily, sitting up, propped up on his elbows, most likely confused by my sudden reaction. "Well, that was certainly the best evening of my life," he says, combing a finger through his already wildly tousled hair before fanning himself with a hand. He stretches out a pair of long muscular arms, his bones crackling, before leaning over me, pressing one of the buttons that lowers the automatic window closest to my side.

I sit carefully away from him, as furthest away as I possibly could, my back pressed against the car door. The wind leaking into the car is surprisingly soothing against my skin and when I look down at my hands, I'm instantly startled. My wrists look swollen, red and blistered. I poke the red discolouration with my forefinger and it throbs and aches a little. Why were my wrists red and blistered?

"I warned you, love," Edward says with a defensive edge to his voice that confuses me even more. "I told you not to struggle. You could have -" He stops abruptly, breathing strenuously and I hear him make a low, revolted sound in the back of his throat. "You could have dislocated something... It was never my intention to hurt you. You brought it on yourself."

Now it was finally beginning to come back to me.

I remember feeling so scared being alone in the house while Charlie was on late shift. The floorboards of the house kept creaking and the refrigerator buzzing and it left me in a state of panic... Then there was a loud knocking noise on the door. It sounded like someone urgently needed some help and I remember I got up off the sofa a little too quickly and stumbled over to the door, holding it for support before opening it just the slightest bit.

That's when I remembered it was Edward...

The expression of urgency on his face left me feeling so scared, but I wasn't sure what of.

"Why can't I remember anything?" I ask Edward quietly. I was surprised my voice kept so firm when in actuality I felt so frightened inside. "All I remember was you... knocking on the door... pulling me into your car..." I look over at Edward to find him regarding me anxiously.

He sighs loudly before raising a shaking hand, rubbing his forehead with his fingers, his eyes narrowed in frustration. "I was left with aching regrets." He looks guilty for some unfathomable reason. "I realized I'd gone about this all out of order." He massages his eyes with his fingers. "Traditionally, I should have asked your father for your hand in marriage first and foremost before I started behaving so irrationally..."

Holy cow.

My hand in marriage... since when?

It took me a long moment to digest this. I stared down at the carpet, thinking it through. Was this what the whole kidnapping/hostage thing was about? Edward and I getting married? I dismally remembered how everything was so fast-paced and sudden, as though it wasn't really happening. And then I suddenly remember Edward whispering those dreaded words, "Marry me", and it all finally came back to me.

"I assumed it was easier this way. We won't have to make a fanfare production out of it," Edward says, bringing me out of my unpleasant reverie. "I want us to go directly to Vegas and get it over with, as I originally planned."

Gosh. Married to... Edward barely within a few days of being held hostage and only at eighteen! I shudder inwardly.

I had to try swallowing before I could speak. "What if I..." I began, faltering, shaking my head. Edward looks up at me through the thick, dark lashes of his eyes, confused. "What if I... don't agree to go through with this?"

I knew I had hurt Edward by saying that. His face fell. He bent down, picking up what looks like a piece of black cloth off the flooring of the car, the very thing that had been draped over me, and I realize it's some sort of leather jacket. It must be _his_ leather jacket. Did he put it over my body so I would be warm?

He crumples the material between his fingers before combing his other hand through his bronze, tousled hair again, clearly pissed off for some reason. Then his green eyes were suddenly shining with excitement and he smiled mischievously; I didn't like that look at all. It made me uneasy.

"I'm afraid you don't really have a say in the matter," he said after a moment, his voice low and dangerously husky. "I decided this way before your objections were involved." He runs a hand across his unshaven chin and sighs loudly again. "I'm not taking your concerns into consideration, Isabella. Not now."

"You can't force me to do this," I objected.

I gritted my teeth together to keep my terror from showing because I knew it was true; Edward probably could force me into doing this because he already did... He already forced me into his car in the middle of the evening without caring about whether I wanted to go with him or not. Why would he start to care now?

His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward closer toward me in the seat. "You're afraid of commitment, aren't you, love?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm not." I scrutinize his expression for a long moment and I could tell he was enjoying my obvious discomfort over the subject of marriage. "I'm only afraid of you, Edward."

When I said that, he looked not only taken aback by my honesty, but hurt. He straightens up in the seat, looking away from me before delving headfirst through the gap between the seats and reaching into the glove compartment. Even in my wretchedness and confusion, I observe he had quite a nice, shapely ass. But why was I even – what the hell, Bella?

I shake my head, trying to clear the thought as Edward sits back down into the seat, holding his crumpled pack of cigarettes in his hands. "You're absurd," he muttered under his breath before slipping a cigarette between his lips and I clasped my hands around my knees, forcing myself to look away from him.

Was he a mind reader? I thought suspiciously, a sensation of warmth flooding my face. Could he tell I was innocently observing him just then?

Of course not, Bella, I told myself, feeling so idiotic.

And maybe I was absurd and all of that, like he said...

But I wasn't the one illegally confining him by the wrists to his car with a tie so he wouldn't escape and I certainly wasn't the one forcing him into... marrying me – I shudder again at the thought. If anyone was being absurd right now, it was _him_. I scrutinize Edward's expression once again and I realize that I've really hurt him for some unfathomable reason with what I've said... But right now, I feel no sympathy toward him at all. Right now I feel I really need to use a... restroom.

I swivel my body toward the doorhandle, reaching out a little quicker than intended and, as if in sync, Edward leans over too, catching my ankle tightly, startled. He stares at me for a long moment with a side-long glance of warning, his lips parted slightly in surprise, and the unlit cigarette falls out of his mouth, falling onto the seat and starting to roll to the end of the seat.

"Where are you going?" he asks annoyed, raising one eyebrow as he catches the rolling cigarette effortlessly between his forefinger and middle finger before it rolls off the car seat and onto the flooring, still not daring to break eye contact with me.

I look away from him, examining our surroundings outside the car anxiously. "Um, I need to use a restroom." Not that it's any of your business anyway, Edward, I thought to myself.

I hear him clear his throat and before I can register what's happening, Edward flings himself out of car and onto his feet. I watch as he dutifully strides over to my side, opening the door for me, a surprising gesture. I hesitate for a moment and I hear him sigh loudly. He begins drumming his fingers against the top of his car.

Stupid impatient Volvo driver, I countered before slipping out of the car. My body feels stiff, as though I've been lying in a rigid position for hours. Of course, I was sleeping in the back of Edward's car so that probably explained it.

I look around us, hoping to find any sign that will tell me of our whereabouts. Ahead of us, there is a large white wood panelled house with an enclosed porch. I can hear people talking boisterously inside. Edward slams the door shut, takes my arm and tries to pull me along. What the...? The closer he pulls me along in the direction of the house, I start to realize it's some kind of diner. Edward pulls open the door in one quick movement, the doorbell jingling as he pushes me inside. I try to struggle against him.

"Bella, do you want to use the restroom or not, love?" he asks curtly with frustration evident in his tone

"I don't need you to escort me to the restroom, Edward," I say loudly through gritted teeth. A few elderly customers in the diner raise their heads, looking in our direction sceptically.

Good, I thought with a feeling of satisfaction. Let them see this. Make a scene!

Edward chuckles softly, feigning a look of confusion. "Don't you, my beloved?" he asks and the way he says it sounds patronizing. I try to pull my arm free, but he tightens his grip. I knew it was going to bruise.

I breathe slowly and deeply, trying to control my fury. "Edward, I'm perfectly capable of walking to the restroom myself," I insist, whispering quietly now, pleading.

He ignores me. "Come on, little coward," he only says, yanking me along with him. Halfway toward the restroom, I felt his grip on my arm slacken and my tense body relaxed slightly as he stopped right near the entrance to the women's restroom. "Would you rather me wait outside right here or shall I come in with you, love?"

My breath hitches in my throat at his question. Was he really giving me that option? Would he really come into the women's restroom with me while I used the toilet? Of course, he probably wouldn't have objected coming into the restroom with me since he did it at school once anyway. I cringe away from him at the memory.

I glare up at him with narrowed eyes and he's smiling wryly. "All right, sweetheart," he says and there was a strong emotion burning under the casual tone of his voice. "I'll simply wait here patiently while my wife uses the restroom." I go to push through the restroom door, but he catches my arm and when I turn around to meet his gaze, he has a grim expression on his face. "I'll give you approximately five minutes." He consults his watch. "Any later than that and I'll begin fretting that you've drowned in the basin. There will be no excuses for tardiness from you, all right?"

I ignore him.

What was his deal anyway? I spend the next few minutes using the toilet then washing my hands in the basin, pondering. Was it even possible for someone to drown in a basin? Surely not.

I examine my wrists carefully and they look red, blistered, ugly and I realize it's from the struggling and friction of the tie against my skin when I tried to get my hands free. It wasn't even necessary for Edward to keep my hands bound to the steering wheel anymore; I didn't even exactly know where we were right now, let alone I was fairly certain it would be impossible to escape from Edward right now, obviously if he's standing, waiting right outside for me.

All I knew was that not only was I beginning to miss Charlie, Rose and Alice...

But I was still frightened by the threatening hostility I felt emulating off him at times, and I was still tongue-tied whenever he'd have one of his mood swings. But did he really mean what he said... about getting married? Was he really intending to take me to Las Vegas? Again, I shuddered inwardly at the possibility.

I was certain, if not positive now, that Edward was insane. But, in a way, I couldn't help pitying him despite all the atrocity he's put me through, with what happened in his car, how he hurt me by biting me and, especially how he's kidnapped me for some bizarre reason. I found I couldn't hate him even if I tried.

When I exit the restroom, not surprisingly, Edward is leaning against the wall, waiting for me, his arms crossed, expression grave. "I'm impressed," he says, staring at me intently with his green penetrating eyes before taking my hand gently. "Not only did you actually obey my orders, but every single delightful part of you is still intact." His tone is playfully thoughtful. "I should give you more credit..."

I didn't say anything, just let him lead me back out to his Volvo, fuming.


	20. Mine

**Disclaimer: I again do not own anything to do with Twilight and never will.** Thank you so much for your kind encouragement, I really hope this chapter isn't a dissapointment. I appreciate it so much. Thanks so much for reading! :) Hope you enjoy this chapter.

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**ECPOV:**

"Bella will have the mushroom ravioli and a Coke," I tell the waitress after I close the menu, as I thrust the menu into her waiting hands.

I ordered for my Isabella.

Because in all sincerity, _I_ was in control here, of our situation - _not_ Isabella. I would have to not only remind her of that unchanging fact, but remind myself additionally. These past few days I had been too placid around her; I would have to show her that I was in command and that her presence had no affect on me whatsoever.

It was on the lowest, meagre scale of falsehood known to mankind.

Because it was undeniable, the feelings that constantly poured through me whenever I simply looked in her direction. It haunted me, admitting such pitiful truths. And I was more than aware that she knew it herself, how unconditionally bound I was to her.

It was as if there were intangible shackles holding me to her with perpetuity. Even contemplating this now, it seemed ridiculous. Stupid beyond belief, but it was absolutely true. There was something there, this burdensome weight holding me to her. Wherever she went, whether it was to use the restroom, I followed her. I refused to let her go, even for a second.

I detested this. I detested the pitiful truth: that my Isabella was my weakness.

In the diner, there was no one else. There never was anyone else when it came to Bella. Everything around us is always a bleak, distant blur of noises and heads, of silverware clattering against plates and the low humming of operating coffee machines. The waitress soon arrives with her dinner. I paid no attention to her. I kept my eyes on my sweetheart and my sweetheart's eyes were noticeably downcast as the woman positioned her meal directly in front of her. Thank goodness the woman never lingered around; she left as quickly as she came.

Bella makes no move to gather her silverware. It makes me infuriated. "Love, you should probably eat," I tell her, pushing the plate closer to her. It didn't take her very long to admit defeat.

She slowly picks up her silverware. "When was the last time you ate?"

_Three days ago, prior to stealing you away, love._ "It doesn't matter."

My Bella sets aside her silverware and folds her petite, little hands. "Then I don't want to eat anything."

I don't believe this..._ I'm_ in control!

She remains staring at me, all delightful and innocuous, but I honestly don't have the patience for all of this. "Isabella, if you value my sanity you will eat something right now."

She doesn't move an inch.

Such a stubborn, little lamb...

I removed a cigarette from my pack, refusing to look at her sweet face. Perhaps I'd have to do something monstrous to convince her that I pulled the strings around here, that I indeed had the stronger power here and not her. I find my matches but I'm conflicted with the painful dilemma of whether I ought to have a cigarette in her company right now or not.

_I'm in control_,_ fool_, I chastised myself, holding the cigarette between my fingers.

My angel Isabella smiled at me, but it looked forged. A weak, pitiful smile. It occurred to me then that perhaps she felt sympathy toward me? Why on earth would my Isabella look at me like that? Contritely? Repentantly? Candidly, I was over the moon with how this Las Vegas situation was playing out before me because after all, it was something done on a whim; soon she would officially be mine and there were no qualms about it. But why did it feel so wrong?

I knew it was idiotically naive of me to have preconceived notions that this would all go according to plan, but her not eating and obeying my commands pushed me off the edge completely.

"Isabella!"

I snap the cigarette in half with my fingers before practically throwing it at my sweet Bella and I could tell she was more than a little scared. I knew it was childish of me to behave in such a matter in front of my soon to be wife, but I couldn't seem to get past the realization that she shrunk away from me at my actions, still appearing naturally lovely and dainty regardless, and I could see that finally now I had at least some level of control over her.

I decided exaggeration was the method I would have to perform. "This is _not _up for negotiation!" I said as loud as I possibly could as a way to stress the importance of my Isabella being well-fed and not famished. "You're the _most_ important thing, now _why_ is that so _hard_ to understand?" A few customers glanced in our direction, but it simply didn't matter to me. I tried to regain whatever little sense of clarity I had left, lowering my voice for her sake, "Now will you please eat the dammed food?"

She stared at me for a long moment before slowly moving into action, her cheeks turning a magnificent shade of pink as she picked up her silverware and began consuming her mushroom ravioli. I suppose she thought I would attack her if she didn't obey me and frankly, I might have if she pushed my patience any further this evening.

I instantly regretted my little outburst in front of my dear Bella. It was never my intention to make her afraid, but she had to simply understand that _I_ was holding the reigns here. I couldn't endure looking at her, her beautiful face and lovely dark flowing hair... It all became too much for me.

The air conditioning in the diner was beginning to get all stuffy and I unzipped my leather jacket, tossing it on the table. My mind was quick. I rise to my feet, still overlooking her face and I strode into the restrooms without a backward glance at my Isabella. I felt nothing in particular right now, I was cold. Right now I could have hardly cared if my Bella got up and ran right out the diner, screaming as she went.

I went straight over to the mirror, dodging an elderly man who clearly looked inebriated, who was urinating on the cold stone wall.

Vile.

Repulsive.

I met my own gaze in the mirror and this infantile being staring back at me was someone I did not recognize. It's in times like these that I'd wished I'd had a razor (for grooming purposes, of course...) I had to keep myself respectable for my Bella. I wouldn't be surprised if she hardly could recognize me herself.

_Still, the fact remains; she's your wife. A few hours at the very least, we will arrive into Las Vegas and she'll be officially yours_, I told myself, cajoling myself into smiling, but it was a feeble attempt.

I truly was a monstrous, beastly sight.

I hadn't shaved in what seemed like weeks. Hopefully it wouldn't concern my Isabella angel too much...

For some incomprehensible reason I found myself daydreaming about my Bella, in the men's restroom of all places. It couldn't have been a more indecent place as that. The daydreams weren't anything of a sexual nature, of course, she was too ingenuous for that... But I thought of holding her in my arms. So warm and gentle and vulnerable.

I expel a breath of air at the delightful imagery and the vile, repulsive urinating man stands next to me, rinsing his hands. It was a little too close for comfort. In fact, it irritated me like hell, his intrusion. That with the added fact that my Isabella wouldn't eat anything...

"Would you mind?" I asked loudly, hardly concerned with how ruthless the words came out of my mouth.

Thankfully he vacated the men's room as soon as I said the words and I stared at my reflection once again, my chest heaving in fury.

_No one understands you, especially not her_, I say to myself sternly, like a father brutally admonishing his son. _You have to make every single moment with her significant – every kiss, every touch, every word... She's the most important thing in your life. No, scrap that – the most important thing ever. _

I try to spruce myself up, make myself all the more presentable by attempting to flatten my hair. _What is it with you? _I ask reproachfully, my reflection gazing back at me with critical eyes. _She's all you'll ever have... You've won the lottery with Isabella Marie. She's exactly like Esme._

_You're nothing like Carlisle..._

_She's nothing like Tanya was..._

_Nothing._

I try to make myself look attractive, but I continue to look like some kind of man-child with bed hair...

_I take you, Isabella Marie..._

I feel my heart beating faster.

_To be my lawfully wedded wife..._

_And I promise to love you through sickness and health, poverty and plenty..._

How magnificent were those vows. It was a symphony to my ears. And we would be reciting them very soon; I had no doubts about it. I stop and breathe for what seemed like a long moment before meeting my gaze in the mirror one final time.

Unexpectedly, I throw my fist forward and seconds later, glass is cascading around me in shards. The mirrors cracked and the reflection staring back at me is certainly someone I do not recognize now, through the broken fragments. I hold my breath, on the edge of hysterics. I look down at my clenched fist.

Red, shiny blood runs down my knuckles.

It refuses to be loosened. Such an impulsive reaction.

I ignore the stinging in my hand that is now becoming apparent as I walk back into the diner. My Isabella is still in her seat. But she's not alone.

Vile.

Repulsive.

_Kill._

"She's mine."


	21. Infuriating Little Thing

**A/N: I own nothing to do with Twilight. All belong to Stephenie Meyer.** This chapter features violence and implied this chapter answers at least some questions lol. Sorry for keeping you guessing for so long. Thank you all so much for the reviews and for your kind words. It's always really appreciated. I probably won't be updating as often anymore, as works really starting to pick up, but thank you all so much for reading my story. It means so much. Really hope you enjoy this chapter and a not so kind Edward.

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**BSPOV:**

Death.

Right now I would have welcomed it, surrendered to it. Because right now I felt as if I was going on one of those rides, a Ferris wheel, where the wheel spins round and round, going from high to low, and then back again in procession. Because that's how it felt with Edward's moods; it was something that came so quickly, something that I couldn't seem to wrap my head around.

It was something I was certain, that if I could not escape Edward; it would slowly drive me insane. Tonight for instance, everything between us was still so unsettling and unnerving, but he actually brought me dinner. While I appreciated the gesture, his reaction when I was hesitant eating was something that simultaneously baffled me and scared me at the same time...

"Hello, ma'am," an elderly man says politely, breaking me out of my horrible thoughts. I could tell he was drunk; his breath smelt of alcohol. "You wouldn't have the time on you, would you?"

"Um," I hesitated placing my fork slowly on the plate. I didn't have a watch on me. Only Edward did right now, but I was pathetically hoping he wouldn't come out of the men's room right now. In some wretched way, I was honestly hoping he would never come out.

I glance over in the direction of the men's room and my heart stops for one single second. Edward is standing there, his arms crossed against his chest, a furious expression on his handsome face. The term, _if looks could kill _would have summed his expression up completely... Holy cow.

"She's mine," I heard him say softly.

With a blood-curdling growl, Edward was striding over to the man and before I could register what was happening, I saw the man lying headfirst against the diner's wood panelled flooring and he had blood on his forehead, Edward had blood on his fists and the whole room went uncharacteristically quiet, still.

It was all so fast-paced that I wasn't even certain what was happening. It all didn't seem real at all.

Edward crouches over the man's body, breathing strenuously. "She's mine," I heard Edward say in a cold, hard voice to the poor man. "No one is allowed to touch her, or even _think _about her. If you do, you'll have to be ready to face the consequences." I watched in fear as Edward bent down, lifting the man's head off the flooring as he hissed low in his ear, "Do you understand that, you miserable piece of scum?"

The man didn't say anything or make any gesture in understanding. His head lolled to the side when Edward placed him carefully back down onto the floor.

_Oh my God._

Sobs were threatening to tear through my chest, shaking me. I rubbed my chilled arms as I glanced slowly around the diner, taking in the expressions of every male and female customer in the room. They were all staring at Edward, wide-eyed in fear, and I furtively took a step away from him, wanting to keep as much distance between us as possible.

I studied this stranger-Edward next to me out of the corner of my eye. Who was this man? I've came to realize that every moment I spent with him, against my will, was another moment that brought to light the fact that I didn't _know _this monstrous person at all. Who was he? The Edward I thought I knew hadn't been so violent and cruel in this way... I didn't know him at all...

Beside me I heard Edward pant shakily and swear. "Isabella?" His voice came out flat, trembling.

I froze at the use of my name. A spike of fear stabbed at my heart at the meaningful, urgent tone in his voice. He made a loud sniffing noise and I turned to look at him, my mouth agape in numb shock. He was still crouching down, glancing over at me from behind his shoulder. He stood slowly, his hands dangling at his sides.

"Isabella," he said again, this time as soft as a whisper, his face draining of colour as he said it.

He moved slowly toward me, breaking the distance between us that I so wanted to be permanent, and he made another loud sniffing noise before raising his hand. I yelped unintentionally as I felt his fingers on my elbow, stroking the skin of my arm which was raised and bumpy from gooseflesh. I wanted to move away from him, but I found I couldn't. I could not move an inch. My legs felt numb, my whole body felt numb, in fact.

Because there was nothing as terrifying as what just happened.

Nothing as dark and bleak and malevolent as what Edward did to that poor old man. I felt so lonely now. And terrified. And cold. My body shuddered through the thin, sheer material of my blouse that was sticking to my skin from all the sweat that has now adhered to it.

Edward was the only source of warmth I felt, as bizarre as that sounded. He lifted his hand higher and pressed it lightly against the skin of my neck and I knew he would have felt my pulse thudding madly in fear against his fingertips. The relief that surged through me at his touch was overwhelming. The warmth of his fingertips, I felt oddly soothing against my skin and in a way I longed for him to hold me, warm me.

A sickening shudder passed through me. "I-I want you to take me home right now," I spoke through the dreadful silence, my voice coming out small and scared.

I slapped his hand away, my stomach reeling in disgust. I swallowed nervously as I glanced at him. I noticed the briefest flash of regret in his eyes as he met my gaze, smoothing out some invisible wrinkles on his shirt. Swallowing hard, I observed the red splotches of blood on the sleeves of his dress shirt at the same time as he did, and he bowed his head, bronzed hair falling into his eyes, rolling up the cuffs one by one with each bloody hand.

I turned away from him, walking out the diner in a trance. I wanted to run, to escape and be free. Even though I knew Edward would have probably caught up with me, I wanted to try... That poor man inside the diner. Why did Edward do that? He wasn't even doing anything wrong, just speaking to me?

_Edward... _Even his name was now enough to make me feel sick inside.

Edward came rushing toward me a moment later and I watched him with such anger. He looked at his watch before shoving both hands into his pockets. He came and stood right near me.

"I left you in peace so that you could simply finish your meal – not for some disgusting, vile low-life to make sexual advances toward you and, for that, I truly am sorry." He spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child. He smiles, but it isn't a very friendly smile. "That's why I'll never leave your side again. You won't ever have to endure all of that, when your heart is truly with me, love..." My stomach lurches in fear and I squirm underneath his penetrating gaze.

He didn't seem to understand it at all; the man wasn't being rude or indecent to me in any way. I remember him staggering over toward me, asking me what the time was. It wasn't like what Edward said at all. There was no reason for him to hurt him, I countered in my head. There was no justification enough for someone to harm someone else as severely as Edward just did then.

"He didn't hurt me. He was only asking for the time, Edward. You didn't... have to..." It was all I could say right now. I felt sick inside.

He shrugs. "Still, I'll never leave your side ever again," Edward said in a much brighter tone. He pulled a hand out of his pocket and ran the fingertips lightly across my cheekbone, his expression thoughtful.

I had to use a different tactic, something palpable and blatant. "Edward, I said I want to go home..." I faltered, swallowing thickly before continuing. "Charlie... my father... he must be -"

Edward suddenly looks defensive and he quickly removes his hand away from my face. "-What?" he interrupted sourly. "Your father must be what, Isabella?"

"Worried." His green eyes were intense, staring intently into mine and I swallowed again as I forced myself to look directly into them. "He'll be looking for me. Probably even assigning a team to look for me..." I added, hopeful.

Edward nods, looking deep in thought. "You're probably correct, love." He didn't say anything else. My eyes darted around us, back into the diner, the large cluster of shaken customers probably waiting for the ambulance and police to arrive. "That's why I simply would like you to make a quick phone call to your father and explain the situation at hand..."

_That_ caught my attention and I met his gaze again. "W-what are you talking about?"

He raises one eyebrow before chuckling softly, shaking his head with an expression of mirth. "I don't quite like the idea of your father getting the wrong impression that I've taken you away against your will, love..."

"Edward, I told you I _didn't_ want..." I swallowed, trying to suppress the panicky feelings over the thoughts of marrying Edward... He looks at me expectantly, waiting. "I'm sorry, but... I don't want to... marry you." My heart sinks at the expression on his face.

He stares down at his sneakers for a long moment and it looked as if he was having a hard time trying to digest it. "You don't... want to marry me?" Edward asks after a moment, the words sounding as if they were choking him.

"No."

"You _don't_ want to marry me?" he repeated again, louder this time. He combs a bloody hand through his bronze, tousled hair before tugging a fistful of it, grimacing.

"I'm... sorry... I just..." I pressed my mouth shut. I didn't know what to say or what to do, how to apologize or provide some form of comfort as to hurt him in the least way possible.

He shields his face with a hand and I watch anxiously as he paces back and forth near his car. Every single moment that passed by us in silence seemed to upset him more and more. "No," Edward says finally through his teeth. He stops pacing around and turns to face me, tilting his head to the side. "This isn't very humorous of you." He regards me seriously. "I don't take your joking of these matters lightly, Isabella."

"Edward, please. I'm not -"

He comes at me, towering over me, and grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look up at him. I obeyed anyway, it's not like I had any choice. "I thought I illustrated to you – in great detail – how it would be impossible for you to find anyone who loves you as much as I do, Bella." He strokes my chin gently with his thumb in circular movements. "It really wouldn't be in your best interests to throw all of this" – he waves his other hand vaguely behind him – "away. Now would it, sweetheart?"

"Edward, if you really..." I force myself to look at his handsome face, hoping I won't waver. I know this will do nothing but hurt him. But it has to be done. "If you really love me like you say you do, you'll take me home..." I say it slowly, gently so it will rouse the least bit of anger in him.

He sighs loudly. "Do you not understand how hard it is of me to refuse when you plead with me in this way?" He gives me a look of deep anguish and his grip tightens automatically on my chin. I twisted and whimpered in his grip as the nail of his thumb began digging into my skin but he refused to let go.

_No. Oh, god!_

I slapped him as hard as I could against the stupid smirk that was now softening his features and then recoiled away, my back pressed against his car in fear. It felt fleetingly good but now I immediately regretted it; I'd seen how things set him off easily. A patch of red has begun to appear on Edward's cheek from the sharp blow and he took a step forward toward me, his expression deceptively calm.

I screamed as his hand struck out as fast as lightening and clamped around my throat. I gasped in pain as his hand convulsively tightened against my windpipe. A tear slid down my cheek.

"Isabella," he said when I refused to look at him, hungrily sucking in as little air as I could get right now. With all the force I could muster, I tried twisting out of his grip but Edward shook me, pressing me tighter against the side of the car. "Why on earth would you possibly do this to me?" he whispered against my cheek. "How can you ask this of me when you know that I simply will not allow it?" He lowers his voice, eyeing me critically. "Do you not understand that I would do everything in my power to stop this from happening?"

I swallowed nervously. "P-please don't," I shake my head, yanking against his hold again, trying to break free.

I felt him breathe heavily against my cheek at my begging, and it seemed to do the trick. He eased slightly on the pressure and I greedily sucked in more air. "Are you still hungry, my love?" His voice is quiet now, gentle. I was growing even more exhausted of his mood swings now. "Would you like to leave now?" His other hand was warm, relentlessly searching its way up to my neckline.

Reluctantly meeting Edward's eyes, he had a slightly amused look on his face as though he found this whole thing funny. "No," I mouthed, trying not to waver as I met his amused stare. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut; trying to bend my head away from him, but his hold was too strong. It felt too close for comfort right now, unnerving, and I really needed to breathe.

"No you're not hungry? Or no, you simply don't want to leave just yet?" His voice was sharp.

I shake my head again, trying to swallow against the tightening of his palm. "Can't... breathe... properly..." I managed to squeak the words out.

I opened my eyes and met his penetrating gaze one last time. I whimpered as he moved even closer, his body heat alarmingly warm in contrast to the uncomfortable chill of being pressed against the glossy exterior of his car.

"Isabella," he pants in my ear, his warm breath tickling my cheek, giving me goosebumps all over. "My number one priority is your wellbeing. If you're uncomfortable and underfed in any way, you must tell me without hesitation." He sounds frighteningly calm, as though it was nothing to have his hand gripping my throat and blocking my air supply in the process. "But I will not escort you home and I will _not_ let us separate so unexpectedly in this manner. It resolves nothing, frankly."

I yelped as he shook me again, pulling my body off the car and into him, before moving his hand away from my throat slowly and then changed directions, tucking a stray, loose tendril of my hair behind my ear. My eyes darted up at him at his sudden change in actions without consent. He looked indifferent about it all. But then an unexpected hand on my hip makes me gasp and I slapped it off only to be caught by my wrist in time, his fingers wrapping all the way around and overlapping.

He chuckles softly above me. "I'm trying to be as understanding as I possibly can be here, Bella," he says in a hushed whisper, his voice silky smooth. "But I would appreciate it if you could try to understand where I am coming from also, love." He sniffs loudly before bringing a hand to cradle my face and his hand feels wet, unnerving against my skin. "You cannot begin to possibly imagine how much I've wanted you... how much I've been desiring to be close to you... intimate with you..."

Both my hands tightened into fists at his words and I exhaled sharply before leaning my face away from his chest and looking up at him, his hand still cupping my cheek. He met my gaze, his expression full of – what? Love? Eagerness? I begged wordlessly for him to let go of my wrist. I wondered if he could feel the palpitations of my quick pulse reverberating through to his fingertips and a moment later he was wearing a blank expression, still too horribly close for comfort, his green eyes twinkling.

"I know what you must be thinking, love," he says, smiling before at last letting go of my wrist and I sigh inwardly in relief. "You must think it's absurd, that what I have for you is simply a high-school crush or infatuation..." _No, not at all_, I think to myself bitterly and I can't help not containing a whimper as he suddenly prods the edge of my nose lightly with his forefinger. "Of course, there was one other that I did tell you briefly about... but it was never as strong as the feelings that course through me when I think and look at you..."

Was he talking about Tanya? Holy cow. I suddenly realized I'd been so carried away with what had happened these past few days that I'd forgotten about the conversations with Alice about Edward's past relationships at school.

"What happened to Tanya?" I asked, so suddenly and without restraint.

Stupid Bella.

I feel Edward's body stiffen at the sound of her name and I took this as a very bad sign.

"H-how did you know her name?" Edward asks after a moment, his voice low and full of confusion.

I was afraid he would get angry again, but I couldn't bring myself to regret bringing her up.

I looked up at his face eagerly, but before I can read his expression, he pushes my body gently backward, so that my shoulders are resting against the car again and he moves away from me, sniffing loudly once more as he strides toward the hood of his car. I wondered idly if he was trying to distract himself.

I followed him, holding my arms close to my chest. "Alice told me," I admitted reluctantly, trying to make out his expression through the darkness.

"Infuriating little thing," I heard him mumble softly before running both hands through his bronzed, tousled hair. "And what else exactly did she tell you?" he asks gruffly and I'm suddenly nervous at the new edge to his voice. I wring my hands nervously as Edward moves right in front of me, gauging my reaction, his green eyes sharp on my face. He leans down, level to my face. "What. Did. She. Tell. You. About. Her?" he asks emphatically, slowly. "Sweetheart," he adds gently, smiling wryly, probably sensing my uneasiness right now.

_Here goes nothing_... I braced myself for the worst.

Death.


	22. Just the two of us

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own nothing. Thank** you so much for your reviews, favourites and alerts. I appreciate it so much and am so glad that you like my story. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks again so much! :)

* * *

"Isabella, you look shaken and cold," Edward observes, his green eyes roaming over my tense, shivering body. I knew he was only trying to distract me from the subject of Tanya Denali. "It's understandable given the circumstances, but please, love, this is beyond ridiculous..."

"Not until you tell me about Tanya."

Edward snorts derisively at my failed attempt at being stern and demanding, slips off his leather jacket and holds it out to me with a flourish. Fear pulsated through my veins in reaction and I had trouble breathing as my heart rate picked up when I met his intense gaze. He stares at me for a long moment, expectantly, before sighing loudly in frustration and thrusting the bunched up material into my motionless hands.

"Put on the jacket, and then I'll talk," he bargained quietly, when he saw my reluctance.

I hesitated before slipping my arms through the armholes and was startled to find that the inside of the jacket was still moderately warm from his body heat against it. I wrapped myself tightly in his warm jacket. It was hopeless. His rich scent of cigarettes and some other smell I couldn't seem to place drifted upwards and reached my nostrils, surrounding me, seducing me, and cajoling me into a silent, treacherous calm.

Because of the warm jacket, some of the numbing cold had begun to leave me. My teeth were still chattering from time to time, and it wasn't only from the cold. It was from everything, Edward's alarming presence, and the constant replaying images of what he had done to that poor old man in the diner and the unanswered question of whether the man was alive or not.

The silence, the distance between us, the aching awareness of not quite knowing who Edward was anymore, combined with the ever present darkness and biting wind was starting to really get to me. My eyes brimmed with tears once again and I really didn't want to cry in front of Edward right now.

I had to be strong, not only for myself, but if I wanted the truth uncovered about Tanya Denali and Edward's relationship...

I watch patiently as Edward props himself up on the hood of his car by his elbows, making himself comfortable for the long explanation ahead of us. "The very last evening before Tanya abandoned me, we had quite a serious disagreement." He stares down at his sneakers for a long moment, before continuing, "I won't tell you about the matters in which we were arguing about, love... Frankly it would make quite a long story." He gives out a short, low laugh before sighing loudly.

"For some inexplicable reasons beyond me, she always seemed to see eye to eye with my father, Carlisle. That evening I arrived home from school to find her already in my house." He meets my gaze, his lips pressing into a tight, thin line. "She was upstairs in my father's office. I overheard them talking."

Edward smiles, but it doesn't quite touch his eyes.

He passes his hands over his face before bowing his head, combing his fingers through his bronzed, tousled hair. I could tell he was upset with reflecting on such things.

"I couldn't believe my ears. She was confiding in my father of all people. I mean, we were together for one... two months, I think." He meets my gaze again, shaking his head, a faraway and distant look in his green eyes. "And she couldn't even possibly tell _me_ that she wanted to end our relationship. Instead she told my_ father_..."

He laughs again, a shaky uneven sound as he pulls his fringe back against his scalp with his hands in frustration. "You cannot possibly grasp how..." He pauses for a moment as though trying to find the right words to explain. He groans. "When you invest so much energy and effort emotionally into a relationship, when they decide to leave... it just shatters your world completely..." He hangs his head and I can't make out his expression in the pitch-black darkness. "You'll find that you will go to desperate measures – sometimes absurd, circuitous, unreasonable measures - to preserve what you had. And so that's what I did."

I suddenly felt so stupid. Everything, his story, seemed to evoke hurtful feelings inside of him and I had been responsible for that... Maybe I was just as cruel and cold-hearted as he was. Normally I would have been reluctant to believe anyone else's side of the story, when Alice had told me it beforehand.

But I knew tonight Edward's words were real and heartfelt.

Edward straightens up against his car in what I could see was a tiring effort to compose himself. "I pledged to myself that I would _never_ let it happen that way ever again..." I inhaled shakily as he looked me directly in the eyes as he said this, his green eyes twinkling with some hidden emotion.

He leans forward toward me and smiles crookedly. "It's like when you visit a pet-shop, for instance," he says honestly, looking at me as though he desperately needs for me to understand.

"And you catch sight of this adorable, angelic little puppy..." He smiles widely, looking slightly abashed for some unfathomable reason. "You couldn't ever possibly imagine living without that puppy, and so you beg and beg relentlessly until at last they relent and let you have it."

I go to open my mouth, to ask what a puppy has to do with anything, but he holds up a hand and so I clamp my mouth shut and silently gesture for him to continue. "I understand a puppies quite the unfitting analogy but, please, work with me here..."

He raises one eyebrow, as if daring me to object, before continuing softly. "So you take that sweet, loveable puppy home and you long to feed it, take care of it, protect it – you'd do _anything_ for it" – he clenches both hands into tight fists for emphasize, placing them over his chest before lowing them and shaking his head, frowning – "But then, it all becomes too much for that little puppy. It's almost as if you are... smothering them." He closes his eyes with a look of great disappointment on his handsome face.

I drew a deep and shaky breath then let it all out, thinking his story through. Was he referring to me as that little puppy? Was he trying to compensate the loss he felt for Tanya Denali by acting this way with me? By holding me against my will so perhaps then I could in turn never abandon him like she did?

Sirens begin wailing in the distance; the police, and the ambulance and I gasp, startled. I had been so engrossed in his story, searching for answers, that I had forgotten about the current predicament surrounding us.

Edward smiles widely at my reaction, triumphant, and then reopens his eyes, his green eyes twinkling.

At that very moment, an intense beam of red light from the police cars and the ambulance pans painfully across my face and I blink a little, my eyes taking a moment to adjust. Edward moves away from me and his car with a loud, wistful sigh as he notices the police car that has only just pulled up at the diner.

I watched apprehensively as the poor old man from inside the diner was lifted onto a stretcher, paramedics at his aid, daubing his bloody forehead with pieces of wet, white cloth. Police officers soon interviewed him and I heard customers from in the diner trying to be as helpful as they possibly could, informing the police of what they witnessed with the incident. An elderly, thin-faced man lifted his head in Edward's direction during his interview with an officer, still wide-eyed with fear, not daring to look directly at him as if he was afraid it might provoke Edward to attack him this time around. I couldn't blame him.

"We're going to have to ask you to come down to the station," I heard one officer say loudly to Edward and I watched in fear as they plopped him heavily down onto the hood of his Volvo with a loud thud.

Another younger looking officer with a notepad strode over to me, a grim expression on his face. It made me feel even more nervous. "Have you been arguing with your husband?" he asks softly, clearly referring to _Edward_ as my _husband_. "Was he upset?"

"He's not, um, my husband."

I could only produce a ridiculous yelp as I saw behind the young officer's shoulder Edward's forehead being slammed against the hood of the Volvo by the oldest, gray-haired officer, causing him to crane his neck awkwardly in our direction to overhear us.

"But he says you both had plans to go to Vegas and get hitched?"

"No. I-I mean, _he_ had the plans..."

The officer looks dubious. "I've heard this all the time; one party in the relationship decides they don't want to go through with it and the other gets mad. Usually the roles are in reversal and it's the man who doesn't want to go through with it..." He grins at me largely and glances over his shoulder at Edward, who's just resting his left cheek on the hood of his Volvo, handcuffed, watching our conversation, indifferent despite it all. The officer then looks down at his notepad and scribbles something down. "You were both fighting over it and a man tried to get involved, so he hit him. Is that the way it went?"

"N-no."

"Yes!" Edward insists emphatically and I couldn't contain another yelp as the gray-haired officer prodded Edward's shin with the heel of his shoe roughly. I heard Edward hiss in pain at the older man's actions, followed by his lovely low laugh. I stared at him incredulously. The man was hurting Edward – yet he was laughing like it was no big deal? He's definitely not only insane, but masochistic...

The young officer swivels around to glance at the older officer. "Now, that's enough punishment for one day, don't you think?" The gray-haired officer nodded once before stepping away from Edward and made a motion with his hand, inviting Edward into our conversation.

"Isabella and I were having quite a few disagreements on the matter and she decided to use my desire of having her as my wife to her advantage," Edward says matter-of-factly, speaking fast. I had to clamp my mouth shut so I wouldn't interrupt. "She knew it would offend me the most and subsequently I hit the man when he tried to intervene. It was nothing personal."

No, no, no. It didn't happen like that at all. Please – no!

I had trouble breathing as my heart rate picked up. Edward seemed to lie seamlessly and I could tell the young officer was starting to believe him. If it had been the Forks police that had seen this incident, I was certain they would have arrested him; I knew Charlie would be looking for me, reporting my disappearance to everybody he possibly could and spreading the word around...

"P-please," I whispered to the officer, shaking my head. Speaking was far more painful than I realized. After Edward had applied pressure to my windpipe, it felt almost as if sharp shards of ice were fighting their way to slip down my throat every time I uttered a single word.

The officer must have mistaken my pleading for letting Edward off the hook and gave me an apologetic look. He turned around to meet Edward's prying gaze. "We'll still have to take you down to the station regardless," the officer informed Edward sternly. "You'll have to fill out an incident report and we'll make contact with you in the next twenty four hours to see whether the man will want to press charges against you for assault and grievous bodily harm or not."

Edward shifts his body off the hood and straightened up slowly, his arms around his back and hands still securely cuffed. "Absolutely, sir," he agreed softly. "It's completely understandable. I'll comply quietly so that your job here will be done correctly and efficiently. But in all things considered, I honestly didn't mean to do the man any harm." The officer grunted in response before jotting something else down on his notepad and I took a chance and met Edward's gaze, swallowing hard.

The little hairs on the nape of my neck rose as he winked at me behind the officer's back, smiling wryly. When the officer turned around to follow my apprehensive gaze, his expression was a perfect poker face, eyebrows furrowed with what looked like a feigned expression of remorse.

Edward stares down at his sneakers, before looking up at the officer through the lashes of his eyes. It was as if with that overwhelming look alone, he could simply will anyone into doing and believing anything. I hoped this young officer was made of sterner stuff.

"Would you mind escorting my wife with us in the police car down to the station?" Edward asks the officer quietly, with unnecessary emphasize of the word 'wife'. "I don't quite like the idea of leaving her alone here in the middle of the evening out in the cold..."

The officer met my gaze and I pleaded with him wordlessly to let me stay. "Would you like that, ma'am?" he asks me and my heart was pounding so fast at his question that I had to remind myself how to breathe.

"I-I would like to wait here until he gets back," I said firmly. I didn't dare steal a glance at Edward's expression behind the man's back in fear that I would waver. I could tell he would be angry, that he maybe even might be plotting ways to coerce this young officer into making me ride along with them.

The officer nodded. "That should be fine as long as you can find a place to stay for the night."

Yes! An amazing sense of freedom and contentment streamed through me at his words.

Without being able to contain myself, I flung my arms around this young officer in immense gratitude. But the skin on my back crawled as I caught sight of Edward behind his shoulder. His back stiffened at my actions and his jaw flexed. I quickly separated myself from him in time to see the taken aback expression on the officer's face.

"Uh... all right." The officer's voice was a low, deep hum of uncertainty. He shifted his feet apprehensively and I felt myself going red at my sudden slip-up. I turned around slowly on the spot, chewing my lip. "Wait, ma'am – aren't you gonna kiss your boyfriend goodbye and tell him where to meet you after his form is processed?"

I stopped still, frozen at the man's words.

Looking at Edward as I turned around and took a small step forward toward him, all the little hairs on my back rose as I waited, almost expecting for the moment to come where he'd reach out and grab me, touching me with his warm, always rough fingers against my skin in anger, frustration, which ever mood he was currently in right now.

But then I suddenly remember as I saw how his hands and arms were immovable, bounded behind his back by the metal handcuffs. There was no way that he could escape them, break out of them. He couldn't hurt me. This knowledge should have placated me and reassured me, offered me some sense of power over him and relaxed me, but it didn't.

Instead his touch seemed to burn me and in some ways I longed to feel his warmth again.

I still couldn't believe he was now this man, had transformed into this violent, temperamental man right in front of my two very own eyes... Still, his story about Tanya Denali and that... puppy didn't offer me any consolation or any inkling of reassurance to trust him.

I kept my eyes low to the ground as I edged closer toward him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him shift his feet once, twice, three times in anticipation for the very moment when I reached him, closing the gap between us. Still, the skin on my forearms crawled from not knowing for certain if he was tightly handcuffed enough, if he could still reach out and grab me, if he could maybe even sink his teeth into me and bite me.

But no, he wouldn't, I told myself. He was too... calculated in a way. He wouldn't dare do something like that in front of officers.

His green eyes flashed with some burning emotion and the muscles on the sides of his jaw twitched as he too moved closer to me, breaking the distance himself as I was too much of a coward to do it fully, my head level to his chest. He leans into me; a warm stream of air tickling my forehead and sending goosebumps all over as he hissed: "I'll hurry back for you soon even if it's the last thing I ever do, love."

I flinched when I felt his lips press roughly against the top of my head and he kept them there for a prolonged moment. Swallowing hard, I stood as still as I possibly could to let him have his moment. Each and every time his lips parted slightly and come into contact with skin, my pulse seemed to quicken and my breathing went quick and shallow.

"And then after this matter has been resolved at the station..." Another kiss. "We are going to go somewhere." Another rough kiss trailing along my hairline and down to one of my temples. "Just the two of -"

The young officer clears his throat loudly and instinctively I spring away from Edward, holding my arms to my chest. A sickening shudder passes through me as I raise a hand, trying to wipe away the lingering sensation the friction of his warm lips had left on my skin. To my surprise, my forehead feels bruised and sore.

Tension radiated off Edward's back as two officers led him over to one of the police cars parked near the diner's entrance. He inclined his head and ducked as they shoved him in and only until I saw he was buckled in and comfortably seated did he return my gaze. I felt my heart beat faster than it normally did as he mouthed: "Just the two of us."

My stomach lurched. I wanted to scream the truth to an officer that Edward had held me against my will, yet his expression when looking at me through the window of the police car took the words right out of my mouth. His eyes were intense, fierce, looking directly into mine through the glass.

It wouldn't have startled me if the glass had shattered under the pressure his piercing green eyes exerted.

Edward's expression made me feel both scared for my safety and also set off a peculiar tingling turmoil of warmth in the pit of my stomach.

He didn't seem to blink at all when staring at me like that. His eyes only scanned my face, trailing up and down several times, searching for something in my expression. What was he looking for? My body sagged with his release as he inclined his head, bronzed hair falling into his eyes, the muscles in his jaw twitching as one of the officers said some kind of remark to him.

I looked away from the police car, staring anywhere but at it as the engine started. The wheels of the car rolled loudly over the asphalt, the dirt and gravel making loud scratching noises as it went. I gasped as I realized an elderly couple was standing right near me, watching me with silent curiosity.

And then I suddenly had this dismal thought of an elderly Edward and I, ambling along in our walking frames outside a nursery home. Edward, with his tufted gray eyebrows and tousled, whitish hair and me with long gray flowing hair down to my shoulders, our arthritic fingers intertwined and warm together as we strolled in the home garden of lilies and roses.

Did he actually say he'd... come back to get me again?

So this wasn't the end? I wasn't that naive enough to assume Edward would give up so easily after being taken down to the station. He_ had_ said that he would hurry back to me afterwards; it hadn't been in my imagination. But the memory of his glittering eyes and crooked smile wouldn't seem to leave me. There now was this tiny spark of hope that he had ignited into me, that he would return back like he said, a flickering hope that he would be the different Edward from who he was tonight and the many other nights before it when he took me against my will.

Thinking this through, that spark was immediately lost. Because what he was before had been irrevocably lost.

_And there was no point in dwelling on that, Bella..._

But I was free... for now.


	23. Doomed

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing to do with Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does, and always will. Thank you all so very much for your reviews, alerts, and favorites on my story. I appreciate it so much. I hope you enjoy this chapter. :) Thanks so much for reading.

* * *

"Dad, its Bella!" Even I was alarmed to hear the tremor in my voice.

"Bella?" Charlie roared into the receiver, startled. "Where are you? I've been worried sick, Bells. Had the police out looking for you everywhere. Thought maybe you went back to Florida to visit your mother..."

"N-No, dad. I'm in..." I held the phone away from me for a moment as I turned wildly on the spot, searching for a sign of some sort. Then there, at the diner, I found it: Nevada Springs Diner. Had Edward and I already reached Las Vegas? I shudder at the realization. "I'm in Las Vegas, dad. At the Nevada Springs diner. C-can you please come get me as soon as you possibly can?"

Charlie didn't protest against it. He said he would start driving up first thing. I was immediately comforted when he said that he would. My tense muscles seemed to loosen as I placed the phone carefully back into the cradler and pushed through the heavy glass double doors of the phone box.

In the distance I saw it first thing. Edward's Volvo, parked there by the side of the asphalt road. I hesitated before moving over toward it. Looking around to make sure everything was clear; I tried to open the driver's side door. The metal latch bent and lifted and then the door was open.

I opened the door as wide as it would possibly go before sitting softly into the front seat. The little hairs rose on both arms as I recalled Edward sitting here in the front seat. I could almost feel him here with me, as bizarre as that sounded. I knew he wasn't really here with me; he would be down at the station right now, probably even writing his report on the incident.

It was horrifying to think that he was only a few miles away from me in distance.

Then I had an idea. I leaned over in the seat, and pulled open the glove compartment. The same contents were in there as before. The pink-tinted scarf, with what looked like Edward's dry blood on it. A black ball-point pen. Something metallic and bluish black burrowed deep in there. And, of course, the photograph, coiled at the corners, black ink seeping through...

I didn't hesitate. I reached in there as fast as I possibly could and removed the photograph. I discovered on the clear white back of it, it had something written in Edward's extravagant handwriting. I leaned closer, squinting my eyes to make out what it said:

_To be in love with you is like living a dream every day._

I wondered then if he had written that quote for someone. Did he write it for Tanya Denali? Obviously he wrote it for the very person who was on the other side of the photograph. I turned it over with lightest of touches by one of the coiled corners.

I gasped loudly and my breathing grew ragged.

It wasn't a picture of Tanya Denali, or any other different girl for that matter.

But it was a picture of me.

A black-and-white yearbook photo that had been enlarged; I didn't look much different then as I did now but what surprised me the most wasn't the fact that Edward had taken his yearbook photo and cut and pasted it against me, so we were side-by-side and both smiling widely like two long-time lovers.

It was something he had written underneath in rough handwriting that surprised me:

_Did you hear the news about Edward?  
On the back of his head he had another face.  
Was it a woman's face or a young girl?  
They said to remove it would kill him,  
So poor Edward was doomed._

_And at night she spoke to him,  
Things heard only in hell.  
But they were impossible to separate,  
Chained together for life.  
_

Was the poem how Edward truly felt about me? It amazed me the difference between the first quote and this poem. With this poem, it sounded as though he was gone. That he was beyond desperation. All the thoughts in my head began to make my head throb and I placed the photograph back into the glove compartment, trying to think of nothing, trying to still my mind. It worked only for a second and then there I was, thinking about everything again...

* * *

When Charlie finally arrived to pick me up, I could tell he was so relieved to see me. He embraced me in a tight hug, a surprising gesture, and then we left as soon as he came. The only reminder of the long, unpleasant hours I had been through evenings before was Edward's Volvo that was still parked on the side of the road. I took one last long glance of it when we were driving away on the road, the sun glistening off its silver exterior and then I put it behind me, literally. I relaxed into the seat of Charlie's cruiser, feeling relieved more than ever before.

After the long drive home, I was eager to get into the safe confines of my room. Kicking off my shoes, one of them hitting the wall by accident as I went, I felt exhausted and ready to sentence myself to a lifetime of sleep. I really should have showered, but at that moment I didn't care.

I was home at last. Underneath Charlie's roof, I was safe.

I tore off my jeans and pulled on my cut-off pyjama shorts and a tank-top. It felt so good to be in different clothes. I pulled back the cover sheets of my bed before jumping in and covering all of me, my face and body, underneath them. I tried to breathe slowly, deeply. But this overwhelming feeling overcame me.

For some reason, I felt lonelier than ever before.

* * *

Sleep was now my new best friend, inviting me in, seducing me, to a better harmless world without... _him_.

I wasn't certain how long I slept for, but even when my eyes snapped open, the lids still felt heavy on my eyes. I sat upright in my bed, looking around the room habitually. It was dark. I glanced over at my bedside table, where the illuminated red numbers on my alarm clock read 1.35 in the morning. No wonder I still felt exhausted.

Yet I became aware of something, something very peculiar. I clasped my arms around my knees as I closed my eyes, listening carefully to the noises. I heard the tree from outside my window, the long branches rapping and scratching against the glass. And then I thought I heard my window being pulled open; I was certain I wasn't imagining it.

I felt a light breeze brush against the skin of my arms and knees, immediately sending me in goosebumps all over. I shivered against the breeze before pulling the tangles of my bed sheets away from me and slowly opening my eyes. Again, it was all still too dark. I got to my feet, creeping over to my drawers and pulling on the warm jacket I had draped over it hours ago. The material felt like leather, but it was warm and soothing against my skin regardless. A shadow jumped behind me and all I could hear next was my heart pounding in my ears.

I turned around slowly on the spot.

A long slender, looming shadow was there by my window, blocking the moon from my sight. It moved, the floorboards creaking underneath the weight of them.

_Edward._

"Charlie..." It's all I had to say, all I could say. He understood what I meant completely with that name alone.

"I'm not intending to hurt you. I came in through your window. My only idea was to watch you sleep until you awoke on your own, love." His voice was soft through the darkness and didn't falter with deceit.

Suddenly, I was blinded. Edward made a low grunting noise, as though he had just been blinded by a painful bright white light, too. I had to blink a little a few times for my eyesight to adjust, and when it finally did, I saw lean, white fingers curled around the lamp on my bedside table. Edward must have found my lamp and switched it on.

The hand on the lamp moved and rested near Edward's thigh, palm open and facing toward me. _No knife and no gun_, _nothing. He didn't intend to hurt you too seriously then, like he said... _The pads on his fingertips were blackened, from being fingerprinted down at the station, perhaps? I wasn't certain what the procedures were for incidents involving assaults so I couldn't know for sure.

Edward took a step toward me and I caught the movement. The floorboard creaked slightly underneath his footsteps.

I cleared my throat to gain a little strength. "Charlie," I managed to say again in a tiny squeak.

When Edward moved closer toward me, I stiffened with my back flat against the wall, on the verge of screaming out my father's name. It wasn't far enough. I crossed my arms over my chest and shuffled away, to the farthest corner away from him. I felt like some wretched cowering rat.

I heard him sigh. "Isabella, will you please stop trying to elude me." The floorboards creaked again, louder this time, and tears welled up into my eyes without consent.

"Please stay the hell away from me or else I'll call for Charlie." I spoke fast, before my courage failed me.

Bile rose up in my throat as I stole a quick glance at him. He was closer to me than I expected now. Meeting my gaze, he slowly raised both long, lean hands up as a sign of surrender, as a sign of reassurance that he wasn't going to hurt me, but still I turned away from him, my cheek colliding into the wall, panicky.

"I know all of this has to stop..." I heard him say in a hushed whisper. Trying to pull myself together and taking a needy gulp of air, I forced myself to look back at him. "I know..." He smiles at me ruefully and the sight left an aching lump in my throat. "I know you couldn't possibly love a person as monstrous as I am. I am more than aware that you are terrified of me right now, and have been for quite a while now."

I could tell it pained him to open up and admit all of this.

I looked down at my feet, inhaled, then looked back up at Edward again.

My eyelids were heavy. I so wanted to sleep. But I knew I would never feel safe with Edward here in my room...

A foggy dark shape all of a sudden came into my vision, and then the image cleared as a shudder rippled down my spine. Edward was right in my face now. I scrutinized his handsome face. Clear blue-green eyes, slightly bloodshot from exhaustion, a sharp unshaven chin and high cheekbones. Underneath a disarray of tousled, bronzed hair that was chaotically wild in all directions, twisted tendrils falling into his forehead. His eyes gleamed in the light slightly as he watched my face, the corners of his mouth pulled downward.

I wrapped my jacket tighter against my chest and the smell of cigarettes and something else immediately wafted up into my nostrils. I looked down to find I was still wearing Edward's leather jacket from a day ago. In fact, I hadn't taken it off except once since returning home to Charlie. I didn't exactly know why that was.

Without warning, Edward wrapped his arms around my shoulders, scooping me further away from the wall and into a warm, firm embrace. It was unexpected and I had trouble breathing because of it. I was frozen, barely breathing, my cheek resting level against his chest. I stiffened as I felt him tuck my head under his chin and I felt the muscles of his jaw move against my scalp as he spoke softly: "I have the determination to change my behaviour, for you." Something burrowed itself underneath the back of my hair and lightly caressed the nape of my neck. It only took me a moment to realize it was his hand and fingertips.

Everything was silent for a long moment. I thought about what he had said. The pessimistic voice in my head told me not to trust him, to keep my defences up. After all, nobody can change for anyone else but themselves. Can they?

Once it was clear he wasn't going to try hurt me, I relaxed into his embrace slightly. He shuffled even closer and our bodies slowly moulded into each other's as the time slowly went comfortably by. I didn't know how long we stood there, how long I had my eyes closed and willed myself to think of nothing but the warmth of him holding me.

All I knew was that I felt oddly content by Edward holding me. The soft pads of his fingers teased the skin on the nape of my neck repeatedly, his palm covering the soft flesh. Sensually. I had never imagined him gentle like this after everything that's happened between us.

Every now and then, I'd hear Charlie's muffled snores through the thin plaster walls; the very realization of knowing that my father was content, unaware, and deep into his sleeping made me feel relieved.

A slight nausea vibrated within. It wasn't until I remembered what happened before, with the poor man that Edward injured, and everything before it, that I tried to yank free out of Edward's embrace. His hand disappeared from the nape and to my cheek, his thumb stroking gently some strands of hair away from my face.

I turned my back on him, creeping back over to my soft, warm bed, carefully dodging areas of the floorboards that had a habit of creaking underneath me. I sat down carefully on the edge of my bed, the springs squeaking slightly, and tried to steady my breathing before I looked back up at Edward.

In the pale lamp light, the light raked into his undeniably handsome face and I saw that it was wet, that it looked as if it was shining with tears. Had he been crying just a minute ago? The unanswered question of whether he had in fact been crying or not broke me. Something was broken inside.

Yet why should I feel sorry for him? After all that he has put me through? The fact remains is that he isn't who I thought he was; he isn't gentle or sweet anymore. The fact is... he harmed that man severely last night. He could almost be considered a murderer for what he did to that man...

But the reassuring voice inside of me that was aching to understand him knew that he wasn't...

Edward came over to me slowly, his hands dangling at his sides. He stood still for a moment, glancing down at his watch. Then my stomach lurched as he knelt down on his knees and positioned himself in between my legs, his torso level to my thighs. I was wearing dull gray cut-off shorts, and I felt his thumb gently caress the skin of my thigh. A feeling of nakedness crept up on me.

Swallowing hard, I whispered, "Please don't touch me." I slowly took his hand in mine, startled by the warmth and lifted it off and away from my skin before I let it go. His hand hovered in the empty air above my shoulder before he put it down on the mattress right next to my hip and leaned away from me, offering me a little space to breathe.

"I'm sorry," he suddenly said. It sounded heartfelt despite everything.

Still, his closeness – with the added fact that he was in my bedroom after midnight - made my stomach tighten and my breath hitched painfully in my throat. I couldn't seem to move out of the way and out of his reach. I was... petrified... or hypnotized, perhaps.

"My father had to bail me out this morning," he confesses in a hushed whisper, combing a trembling hand through his bronzed, tousled hair, his eyes narrowed. "He gave me a ... new perspective on everything on the ride home actually."

I couldn't help but recoil at his sudden movement as he lifted his other hand toward me. I felt his thumb tug down the material of his jacket, before carefully tracing along the indentation of my collarbone. The gentleness of his touch left me breathless.

"I was thinking about how life would be without you – when I was down at the station," he continues, looking at me with one eyebrow raised, his green eyes searching my face for any sign of understanding. Moving his hand from my collarbone, he pulled my hand that was clutching my chest further down into my lap before intertwining his fingers through mine, his brows furrowed in deep thought. "I never... knew I could die in my thoughts..."

I shivered as I reached back without breaking his pensive gaze, for the tangle of my cotton bed sheet. When I finally managed to look away from him, I could feel myself blushing. I wrapped the sheet around me, tightening it around my chest, feeling stupid as I did it. As if something so little as a sheet could come between Edward and I, as if it could offer me any protection if he decided to hurt me...

Edward rocks back and forth on his knees and I watched as he lowered his head into his hands, bunching his hands into tight fists as he tugged fistfuls of his bronzed, tousled hair. I listened carefully as I heard him expel a long shaky, ragged breath. "I honestly do not understand the reasons as to why I do some of the things I do," I heard him say. I heard the tension in his voice. The earnest frustration. "I'm not used to acting so quickly on impulse but then I suppose that's my reaction to you..."

When he lifted his head out from under his arms, his anguished expression hit me like a stab. I clenched my hands into fists. They wanted to grab hold of him, pull his body to mine with all the strength they could manage, comfort him. The contradictory emotions made me want to push him away, yell at him to get out of my room and leave me the crap alone for good.

"I feel for you so intensely, Bella," he says, his voice trembling slightly as he said my name. "Sometimes it terrifies me – exactly like I know it does you. Sometimes I feel possessed at times. There are no barriers that I simply wouldn't break if it threatened to come between us, love. Nothing I wouldn't do to preserve what we have... or had, perhaps."

Then he shifted back onto his knees, grasping my wrists into his hands. He leaned closer toward me, his gaze locked with mine, and suddenly he seemed so threatening than ever before. Yet, his movements were gentle and slow at the same time, cautious. My skin seemed to tingle at his touch as I felt his thumbs stroking the insides of my wrists in circular, soothing motions.

My breathing grew ragged as he leaned closer, his mouth almost touching mine. His parted lips sent a warm stream of air against mine and I swallowed the lump in my throat. My traitorous body wanted to respond to him, to kiss him as a way of comforting him and I bit down hard on my lower lip to prevent his from meeting with mine. I wasn't used to such close proximity with anyone and so I held my breath.

Then he leaned over to my left ear, his unshaven chin skimming lightly along my cheek as he whispered: "Words cannot express how much I hate how I can look into your eyes and know that you simply don't feel the same for me as I feel for you."

My heart pounded so fast at his words that I felt as if my chest was about to explode.

I stiffened and stared at his face as he leant back on his knees to look directly into my eyes, his green eyes searching intensely for something there in them. My gaze flickered aimlessly from his piercing stare to the wall behind him.

"If I could pay some generous price simply so that you would return my affections, I would do it in a heartbeat, love," he muttered softly.

And then, before I could protest and struggle against what was happening, he slammed my arms above me on the mattress, my head snapping back onto what I was guessing was my pillow. I heard Edward chuckle again above me as the mattress lurched, the springs squeaking as he straddled me, his legs on each side of my hips. I panted and glared up at him. I could tell he was enjoying this more than he ought to be.

"Get off me," I hissed and twitched and jerked in a desperate attempt to make him lose his balance. Only it didn't work. "Edward, you're -"

"What, little coward?" He was panting as well. I stilled underneath him, trying to catch my breath.

"You're... hurting... me... so get... off." I said between gasps.

I felt every little shift of the muscles in his body as he tried to keep me in place. His gaze locked with mine as I struggled against his hold on my wrists. My cheeks were blushing so furiously until they felt burned like flames licking my skin. "If you cease to struggle, then I'll let you go, love," he bargained and it took me a lot of effort to relax and not struggle against him. I lay completely still underneath him, frozen, as he rolled onto his side and off of me.

He supported his head in his palm, before stretching out his legs and making himself comfortable on _my_ bed. So here I was, lying next to the possibly insane and temperamental Edward Cullen, in my room on my purple sheets. The thought was unthinkable. Maybe I was imagining it? I _hoped_ I was imagining it...

Yet in a way, it was oddly comfortable lying side by side in silence, wrapped up in our own thoughts. I enjoyed it, and yet I also wanted to run, and scream, and wake up Charlie so he'd come barging into my room with his gun. And yet something had stapled my mouth tightly shut; I didn't seem to want Edward to leave.


	24. Home

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Twilight and never will.** :( Thank you so much for your reviews, alerts, favorites. It means so much to me that people actually like and enjoy my story. Hope you are still enjoying it although I'm not too happy with this chapter. Quite anxious about it actually. Thanks so much for reading. Again, hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

* * *

I didn't seem to want Edward to leave. Perhaps that made me insane, but I didn't...

We lay still awkwardly; shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, both of our heads resting against the bedpost. Only I was under the covers and it provided me with a reassuring sense of protection and coverage. I could feel Edward's body trembling, vibrating through the mattress. He must be cold.

I hear him inhale. "I could actually use some warmth," he says in a low voice, his mouth right next to my ear.

"Don't even think about it," I mumble weakly.

Suddenly the bed springs squeaked as I felt Edward shift on his side beside me. The mattress lurched to one side as I felt him tug at my sheet and before I could catch it with my hands, I squealed as somehow his feet burrowed their way underneath and came into contact with mine. His feet were icy cold and he tried to rub the heel of his foot and ankle against mine, causing friction. My eyes went wide and I gasped at his actions. I couldn't believe what he was doing.

"I have cold feet," he whispers to me under his breath with the slightest tremble in his voice, sounding so calm, yet so amused, as if he knew I wouldn't like this one bit. "In the literal sense, of course," he adds, chuckling. "I believe I have my head screwed on correctly where commitment and matrimony are concerned..."

But his ankle kept rubbing against mine. We shared a light sensation of warmth from the friction of his skin against mine and then I heard him sigh loudly, contently, before keeping his feet still, crossing them and resting them heavily on top of mine. I wouldn't dare admit it to him, but it was very comfortable and warm with him beside me.

It was quiet again, and then Edward asks, barely audible, "What's your ideal proposal?" Then he turned silent again, waiting for my answer.

It took me a long time to think about it. "I haven't really thought that far into the future," I admit reluctantly. He sighs loudly at my answer, so I quickly add, "I'm... not into big events where it will bring a lot of attention being focused onto me..."

He nods and then combs a hand through his bronze tousled hair, thinking it through. "Then what's your favourite book?" he suddenly asks abruptly. I started feeling suspicious; why would he want to know such things?

I shrug. "Um, Wuthering Heights."

"Of course." He chuckles softly. "I should have already known..." There's a sarcastic edge to his voice.

"What?" I ask defensively, folding my arms around my chest,

Edward gives me a wry look, "It doesn't matter," he says curtly, then shifts on the bed onto his side, his head supported by his palm to look at me. "What's your favourite dessert?"

I stare at him for a moment, confused at the sudden subject change. "I don't really... have one..."

"But if you did?" He sounds frustrated.

"Cheesecake, I guess..." It came out more as a question than an actual answer. When I look back at Edward, he has a faraway and distant look in his eyes, as though he's thinking hard about something. "Can I ask you something?" I ask through the silence, breaking him out of his thoughts as his green eyes met mine.

"Anything," he says with an awful fair amount of passion.

"Are you... over Tanya Denali?"

Edward smiles. "Yes, completely and utterly," he says. "Would you like to know the reasons as to why I am so positively certain on that fact?"

I nod silently.

"I simply don't believe it's possible to be in love with two people at the same time. Even if I did, my feelings for you far outweigh the feelings I had for her..."

We didn't speak any more after that. Eventually my eyelids grew heavy and Edward commanded I try to sleep. He yanked his shirt off awkwardly and it made all the bronzed hairs on the back of his head stand up in all possible directions. There was a short moment where I stared at his bare chest unabashedly without his knowledge, at the little hairs sprouting lushly and the muscles of his shoulders.

But then I immediately looked away, embarrassed. Why was I looking at Edward like that? Of course, he was beautiful, and handsome and all the names under the sun. But then there was something else about him, something inside that he truly needed help with. Maybe he needed to see a psychologist or a doctor. But at that moment, I was too distracted by everything else...

When I turned back to my bed, unsurprisingly Edward was laying still on it, his green eyes open and watching me, indifferent about everything. Tendrils of hair fell into his forehead and he looked relaxed, his hands clasped around the middle of his bare, pale stomach. His hips bucked slightly as he opened the top button of his jeans and I had to remind myself then and there how to breathe.

_Too comfortable, and on _my_ bed, _I thought grouchily. I hesitated before climbing back in next to him, making sure I left quite a small gap of distance between us.

I was genuinely surprised when he leaned over me and took hold of my arm. I felt him shift beside me, underneath me, and pulled me down on top of him, the unbelievable warmth and long length of his body soothing against mine. Who needed covers to keep you warm, when surprisingly the body heat of another could do just as good?

I rested my ear against his chest and closed my eyes tightly shut. "Sometimes a love is so intense and powerful that it cannot function in the real world," I thought I heard Edward whisper in my ear throughout the night when I was lightly dozing off. "Sometimes it can only exist in death..." I had opened my mouth wide to say something in response but nothing seemed to come out. My mind stilled and underneath the lids of my eyes, everything was dark with no source of light. I was succumbing into a warm, peaceful slumber, and in Edward's strong arms...

* * *

Had I been dreaming all of that? That I had slept in the same bed as Edward last night, that his strong arms were wrapped around me, that he was holding me firmly against his warm chest? Surely I had been... But it had felt and seemed so real...

My eyes popped open and it took me a moment to get used to the painful white light that was leaking in through the open curtains of my window. A slight breeze was rippling the yellow lace curtains, lifting them this way and that way in the air. I couldn't remember leaving my window open?

With a hand, I felt beside me. I closed my eyes again, searching underneath the covers. I was alone. I didn't feel Edward's warm body next to me. I felt lonelier than I ever have before. And cold. And sad.

I must have dreamed it. And, in a way, it was such a pleasant, welcoming dream.

I sat up slowly in my bed, curling my arms around my knees. I looked at the illuminated numbers on my clock. It was only seven in the morning. I idly wondered if Charlie had already left for work. Then I suddenly remember it was a Saturday. No school!

I threw the covers back over me in delight and closed my eyes again, permitting myself to sleep in for longer. My mind wouldn't seem to allow it. I had this bizarre tingling turmoil in my stomach and the darkness underneath my eyelids was constantly replaced by the image of Edward's face... I almost yelped as I heard something rustling, in the direction of my window. The floorboard creaked.

"Beautiful girl should have truly awakened by now." Edward's voice came from the opposite side of my bed, soft and tender, and laced with pure concern.

I still didn't reopen my eyes; the world was perfect as it was right now. I didn't need to ruin a good peaceful, warm night of sleep by watching the handsome face of this stranger-Edward. I turn on my side, away from him and his voice, and I was certain he caught the movement.

I hear him sigh loudly, wistfully, the floorboards creaking and this crawling sensation on the skin of my back and shoulder made me aware that he was staring at me. Without opening my eyes, I lift the cover sheet with my hand and pull it up over my shoulders and head and automatically feel safe and warm inside.

"Isabella Marie?" I hear him say in a hushed, sing-song whisper. I pretend to be sleeping underneath the covers, my mind still. I hear him clear his throat before announcing loudly right above my covers, his voice compelling and soft, "The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His – or should we say, _her_ – heart withers if it does not answer another heart. Her mind shrinks away if she hears only the echoes of her own thoughts and finds no other inspiration."

His voice went faster and faster as he spoke the poem, as though he believed he had only so little time left with me. I knew the poem was directed at me in some form or another and I grumbled in protest as I rubbed my eyes with my fingers.

I pull the covers off my head and sit up straight in my bed staring at him; my heart in my throat and eyes wide open. He's holding in one hand one of my all-time favorite novels which contained a collection of poems and his eyes held a dark edge that made my stomach knot and nausea rise within.

Even in the pale morning early light I could see that smirk. "So Sleeping Beauty chooses to finally awaken at last," he says softly, his voice almost sending me back into a foggy, sleepy daze. "Now the world inevitably is a more serene and beautiful place..."

I stare at him, bewildered, examining him as he slams the book shut and walks over to my small, dusty bookshelf. He carefully slides it back into place and then comes back over to me. Examining him, I couldn't help but notice there was a bounce in his step and he had an aura of happiness about him that I couldn't seem to place the reasons as to why. Was this another one of his mood swings? With another high, should I be expecting a very dramatic low very soon?

I clasp my hands around my knees, feeling uneasy as he regards me silently while biting his bottom lip. "W-w-where's Charlie?" I spoke so fast that the words stumbled unintelligibly out of my mouth.

"Charlie," he repeats my father's name in a low, quiet voice as he crouched down near me beside the bed. He stares down at his hands, which are folded against his lap, his brows furrowed in thought. "Charlie left early for work purposes, I assume..." He shrugs.

Through the pale morning light that is raking in through the open curtains of my window, I discover that Edward has not only changed out of what he was wearing last night, but his face is freshly shaven, free of any stubble that had accumulated these past few days. I could almost smell the scent of the strong alcohol-filled aftershave he was wearing, but it was a pleasant scent.

"D-did you leave when he left?" I ask, my voice coming out shaking and small for some unfathomable reason, as I examined his face closely without his knowledge.

He meets my gaze and looks confused. "I snuck away while you were out sleeping like a little rabbit all burrowed in its nest of sheets." He smiles widely and stands up, taking a step back; straightening his dark jacket and brushing away the wrinkles that have formed there from crouching, and my eyes roam over his slim, lean body without consent. "I went home and changed into something a little more appropriate..."

I had trouble breathing as my heart rate picked up at the sight of him; he was dressed sharply, beautifully. He was wearing a black suit jacket and a white cotton shirt with cuffs that were dangling undone at the sleeves, and black jeans and Converse sneakers. Was there a special occasion in the midst of all of this or something?

That's when I caught the keyword. "'Appropriate' for what?"

"Well," he began quietly. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin as he sat on the end of my bed and reached out, taking gentle hold of my arm between my elbow and wrist, and pulled it into his lap.

My hand instinctively balled into a fist and I swallowed convulsively as he tried to pry it open with one of his hands. When I uneasily relented, I saw a breathtaking smirk grace his features, his prominent cheekbones rising in victory as he interlaced his fingers through mine with a soft chuckle. Then his expression turned deadly serious as he turned his head back and met my gaze, his green eyes narrowed in fierce concentration. My cheeks burned at his intensity.

My body reacted to his gaze in an unimaginable way. My toes curled underneath the sheets and the little hairs on the nape of my neck rose. "W-what?" I ask nervously, withering underneath his gaze.

He continues to stare at me, as though trying to communicate something with his eyes alone. All I saw was that they were gleaming in the pale light, flickering with some emotion I couldn't decode. After a moment he seemed to give up, because he bowed his head and lifted our intertwined hands. He pressed the back of my hand against the sharp outline of his jaw and then slowly up to his nose, inhaling in the smell of my skin, before he whispered softly against it, "There has to be an end."

I suddenly recalled what he had said last night, about how it all had to stop. I still couldn't understand exactly what he meant by it. All I knew was that he had looked deeply pained and apologetic when he said it, but was there a hidden meaning behind it all that I couldn't seem to grasp?

"You're the only thing in my life, Bella," he continues when I don't say anything. My stomach clenched hard as he lifted his other hand and touched a handful of my hair that was dangling below my shoulders, twisting a strand between his forefinger and thumb. I looked into his eyes and they were glittering with some unidentifiable burning emotion. His jaw twitched. "I recognize I do have a problem, love. I don't think I'll be able to stop..." The way he said it, it was as if he was admitting an inexorable fault. Something that could and would never change, no matter how hard he tried... It was as if he was truly gone... as though he had given up...

He took the hand that was twisting and stroking softly away from my hair and covered his eyes with his hand. He sat there for a long moment in silence and the only thing to be heard were the curtains rippling loudly from the biting breeze. Something stirred inside me, this dangerous need that frightened me more than ever before. It broke me to see Edward like this, so lost and defeated. When he moved his hand away from his eyes, he rubbed his forehead with his fingers and I saw his eyes were darkened and bloodshot.

_Do something_, my mind was yelling at me. _Comfort him! Don't just sit there!_

I reached out a shaking hand to touch him, but then recoiled like a coward, my mind and stomach reeling.

_Bella, this could be the last thing you ever do! The last time you'll ever see him! _

At last, I threw my arms around him. Relief and freedom pulsated through my veins as I held him close toward me, the side of his body leaning in and pressing against mine. I knelt up on my knees as I twined my arms around his shoulders and neck, pressing his forehead against mine. His body was trembling through the thin fabric of his suit jacket and white shirt, and I ran my hands through his bronzed, tousled hair for a moment, admiring the soft texture of it.

Edward lowered his head level to my lips, and I closed my eyes at the warm stream of air that was ricocheting against my cheek with every exhale he made. Then he leaned closer until his lips touched mine. I was paralyzed with fascination over what was about to happen and couldn't turn my head away. Instead I bent my neck and turned my face up properly to meet his.

And then he kissed me.

His kiss was demanding. Capturing my lips and tearing my mouth open. I moaned into his mouth as he shifted his whole body onto the bed and pushed me down onto the mattress, never breaking the kiss. His thumb strokes the bottom of my chin in gentle, circular movements until he tugs at the skin softly with his thumb, parting my lips open wider and then slipped his tongue into my mouth. It was an easy defeat...

My body reacted to him before my mind did. My hands followed the outline of him, tracing along the arc of his broad shoulders until changing direction as I tugged at the collar of his jacket, motioning for him to take it off. Our lips parted momentarily and I observed his face as he shrugged out of his jacket, never once breaking eye contact with mine. The wide smile that lightened his face made my heart lurch as he threw his jacket carelessly on the floor and my back arched for more against the weight of his lean, long body as he leant down, reattaching his lips softly to mine.

My breath hitched in my throat, feeling suddenly disappointed, as he disengaged our lips, his eyes following his hand as it slid down my neck, his fingers roaming down past my stomach as I heard him pant loudly. His hand caught firm hold of my ankle and my pelvis arched into him as he lifted it up and wrapped it around his hip, hooking myself to him.

He met my gaze silently, staring at me for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He smiles at me jubilantly, and bent his mouth closer to mine as he whispered, "Please go stand in the corner of the room. I'd like to take this slow and savour it, if you wouldn't mind, love..." He suddenly rolled off of me and I stared after him, confused, left wanting more...

The two conflicting emotions I felt then for him were irreconcilable. On one hand, I felt fear. The danger emulating from him was so very palpable. At any moment, he could act violently yet I still felt this raging, pulsating need to comfort him. Perhaps this was what he wanted? What he needed? The chance to _really_ be with me. Perhaps this would be the incentive he needed to realize what he did to me before wasn't all that normal? Perhaps this would give him the closure he needed?

He got to his feet before leaning against the wall. I watched patiently as he crouched down, still trying to catch his breath, as he took off his shoes one by one. I didn't get up and move until he motioned with his hand to go to the opposite corner of the room.

I was surprised by how strongly my body had seemed to react to Edward in such a short measure of time. I almost stumbled on my feet and had to catch the wall for support. All I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears and Edward's shallow, ragged breaths. My skin seemed to tingle in the places where he had last touched them, especially my mouth. I was even surprised to find my mouth felt bruised from Edward kissing me so hard.

When I met Edward's gaze, my sudden nerves outweighed any amount of desire I felt for him right now. What if I did something wrong and everything turned out mortifyingly awkward? With me, it wouldn't be surprising, I countered... Looking at Edward, he didn't seem nervous at all. He was staring at my face, concentrating before I saw his hands move slowly up toward his white shirt. He undid the top button slowly and I found myself instinctively up on my tiptoes, wanting to catch more of what was underneath the shirt of him. Edward caught my movement and laughed softly.

"Ladies first," he says, and he motioned toward my tank-top.

I hesitated, and my stomach clenched painfully in panic at his words. What if he didn't like what he saw? Remembering at Mike Newton's party, it was Edward who had all of his clothes off first, _not_ me...

Screw it. I gave my best attempt to seem nonchalant as I pulled my tank-top off and stood there in my lacy, black bra. For a moment my fingers twitched, my arms dying to dive in and shield my flesh from Edward. But he didn't seem repulsed. His green eyes roamed quickly down my body as he regarded me, and I saw him lick his lips briefly before averting his eyes and making a start on unbuttoning his shirt.

The only telltale sign that told me he was just as nervous as I was, was how his fingers trembled slightly when he undid the last two buttons. It made me feel a little more relaxed about what we were doing, knowing that he at least somewhat felt nervous. He shrugged out of his shirt before tossing it down on the floor next to him, piled near his sneakers.

My eyes automatically observed his bare chest and stomach, admiring the curved indentations on his hips and how his black jeans seemed to slouch loosely around them. My palms slickened as I admitted to myself it would only be in a few minutes time that I would finally see what was underneath the jeans.

Edward cleared his throat, bringing me back into the situation at hand. I fumbled with the string of my cut-off shorts before pulling them down to my ankles and stepping out of them. One hand had to catch the plaster wall before I stumbled and I chewed on the inside of my lip, feeling so stupid. There didn't seem any way to take your clothes off gracefully, so I guess Edward would have to settle on awkward and self-conscious right now.

I peeked up to see Edward appraising my legs, smiling. "I love your body," I heard him say softly, and I was surprised by the immense amount of passion in his words. "I love your arms. I especially love your legs... God couldn't have made a more perfect specimen..."

A swarm of butterflies erupted through my chest at his words and I stared down at my feet, my nerves getting the better of me.

When I looked up, I hadn't realized Edward had already slipped out of his jeans. My cheeks burned as my eyes automatically darted to the dark gray briefs he was wearing and, more noticeably, the bulge there. How bizarre. I wanted to attack him, pounce on him, kiss him...

We stood there for a long moment, observing each other's half-naked bodies. He truly was beautiful. Everything about him was, I couldn't deny it. He moves slowly toward me, breaking the distance between us. He combed his fingers through his bronzed, tousled hair as his eyes took in my half-naked body again, sending my spine shivering. Soon his face was in my entire world, looming over me and I swallowed convulsively.

I met his gaze and his green eyes were scanning my face, for what? Permission to go through with this? Permission to kiss me? It was too late not to go through with it, I reasoned. And some part of me, some part deep inside, wanted this and needed this, too.

I look down at his chest, shying away from his gaze, wringing my hands nervously.

He leans forward and presses the softest of kisses against my collarbone and my body instinctively inched into him in reaction, wanting more. "I believe the bed would be a more suitable place," I heard Edward say gently above me. "I wouldn't like to crush you, love..." The sound of his silky voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke and I felt his words vibrate through me rather than hear them.

_I don't care,_ I thought, but didn't say out loud. _I want you anyway you'll have me, I guess..._

He pushes my back gently against the wall and with a hand above my shoulder to brace himself, his mouth caught mine. My hands clamped into two tight fists as my tongue hesitantly met the tip of his. My hands and arms wanted to hold onto something, hold onto him, any part of him, to feel his warmth and body heat against me, and I raised both hands until my palms rested on his shoulders before they slid all the way around to his back, downwards to where the fabric of his pants met his hips and to where I felt the smooth warmth of his skin. He exhaled against my mouth and I knew then that he must have felt my hands on him.

I drowsily relaxed into him as I felt his hand that was not braced against the wall caress the indentations of my collarbone, his fingertips lightly running along the skin, and then met where the swell of my breasts began. I leant closer into him as he slipped his hand underneath the fabric of my bra and exhaled against his mouth as I felt the electricity of his warmth, his hand cupping the skin of one of my breast in light, gentle squeezes and caresses and palm touching my nipple.

Our lips parted and I took the moment to speak. "Edward?" I croak, unsure if I could fully go through with this or not. "I'm afraid. I-I've never done this before..."

My heart lurched as he leaned back, his eyes level to mine. Something wet and shiny was running down his face and highlighted his prominent cheekbones. Was he crying right now?

"Isabella," he says softly with humour in his tone. He shakes his head and chuckles softly. "I'm as foreign to the subject of making love as you are right now, sweetheart."

"Oh." I couldn't help smiling when those words sunk in. Relief and warmth flooded through me.

Edward regarded me very seriously. His eyebrows rose as he looked directly into my eyes, his green eyes twinkling. "But you must tell me if I'm not being gentle enough with you, all right?" He licked his lips before chuckling softly again. He seemed genuinely exultant. "You cannot begin to imagine how long I've been waiting for this moment so... please... do excuse me if I get a little too involved where matters of pleasing you are concerned..."

I nodded, chewing my lip to prevent me from grinning like an insane person as I rested my forehead on his chest at his words. Relax Bella, I told myself, and I said it over and over. Still, it made me feel all the more worse and inexperienced.

His hand moves from the wall and then both warm hands clutch strongly at my hips, thumbs picking and nipping at the elastic of my underwear. "Would you mind if I took them off?" I heard Edward mumble against my hair, clearly referring to my underwear and I nodded slowly against his chest.

I felt him kneel down but instead of simply pulling down my underwear, I was startled when I heard a loud ripping noise followed by the fabric of my underwear cascading behind Edward's shoulders like some kind of waterfall. Did Edward just... rip them off? I couldn't be certain...

I heard him chuckle softly above me and I stiffened as one of his hands followed my naked thigh and then around to my buttocks. My breath hitched audibly in my throat as Edward seemed to lift me effortlessly off the floor and I clung onto his shoulders for dear life, like a drowning woman to a life boat. My bare legs wrapped themselves around his waist as he pinned me against the wall with his body, an animalistic growl clattering through his teeth.

I was starting to feel a little concerned, my hands instead of clinging onto his shoulders moving their way up and twining themselves through strands of his bronze, tousled hair, in rough fistfuls, as he slammed himself against the wall, panting heavily.

"Right now," he pants and whispers sensually in my ear and before I could register what was happening, I felt him inside me. I close my eyes at the sudden sharp pang of pain that jolted through me as he entered me, my hands clamping into fists at the pain, but after a steady, slow rhythm was building, the tingling in my crotch area and the warmth of his skin sliding against mine far outweighed anything.

"Open your eyes, love," I heard Edward demand; his voice so husky and tainted with passion, that it sent shivers and shudders of delight through me.

I opened them, just a small crack, to find Edward staring at my face intently as his hips grounded into me. His bronzed hair was dark, tendrils sticking to the sweat on his forehead and sticking up in all directions from my hands grabbing at it. There was something unmistakably angel-like over him; the way his cheekbones grew more prominent and shaded as he smirked in pleasure every time he thrusted inside me, as though he truly had arrived home.

He devoured me. Claimed me. And I wanted it and relished every breathtaking moment of it.

No part of me was left untouched. He explored it all, every ridge and crevice that nature had given me, from my fingertips to my ears, from my feet to my toes, his lips were on every part of me... He especially paid attention to my wrists, still sore and blistered from the friction of his tie against them as he had tied me to the steering wheel of his car a few nights ago, kissing away the pain and memories that seemed to come with the marks.

It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before.

He made me forget. He made me forget everything that happened between us. But would it have to end? Would it have to stop like Edward had said?

I didn't know, and couldn't know for certain in that instance.

And that was the painful reality of it.

I didn't know.


	25. More To Live For

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing to do with Twilight and never will. So sorry it took me almost a month to update, this has been really difficult for me to write and I really hope it isn't a disappointment. Thanks so much, all you readers and reviewers, it's been so inspiring knowing you like reading my story and I really do appreciate it. Words cannot explain how much so. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

It really happened. Right then, right there.

We made love.

Passionate, tender, violent, and most of all, frighteningly beautiful love.

The surrealism of what we had just done, what I had just done with Edward, was beginning to seep its way in, threatening to estrange us from one another. Yet I felt a tug of optimism; would this change everything between us?

Edward seemed genuinely pleased with what we just did, so I knew for certain that there were no regrets on his part. He was smiling his usual close-mouthed twitch as he pulled on his white dress shirt and shrugged on his suit jacket, and I noticed his face lit up with jubilation when he met my inquisitive gaze as I sat perched on the end of my bed and observed him dress.

And strangely enough, I didn't regret a single thing either. Oddly enough, I found I enjoyed it. It was beyond my expectations. It was beautiful. Something private and intimate that we shared together. Something... I found myself wanting to do again, and again, if the timing and everything became right between us.

"I suppose Charlie will be arriving home in a few hours," I heard him say softly, his silky voice breaking me out of my thoughts.

I blinked a bit and stared at him, feeling a little disappointed by what I saw and what it would all mean; he was crouching down, leaning with his back against the wall, already slipping on his sneakers. He would have to leave very soon before Charlie came home from work...

My stomach lurched as he pushed off the wall and stood, hands dangling at his sides as he came slowly toward me. My heart rate picked up as I leant forward on my knees, wanting and expecting more than just a goodbye kiss or a quick farewell after what we had just done and experienced together. Only he sat down on the bed right next to me, without looking at me.

For some reason, I already knew what was coming. I just didn't want to believe it.

"If I asked you to go out with me officially, what would you say?" he asks, and I found him looking at me earnestly, waiting for my answer. _That_ was unexpected.

There was a euphoria about Edward that was catching. I couldn't deny that I liked him when he was like this, but he was always different the next day, and the next.

"I would tell you..." I faltered, swallowing thickly against the lump in my throat. Would this hurt him? Still, it had to be done. "I would have some conditions first before I... agreed to anything serious with you..."

He nods, thinking this through for a moment, smiling that crooked, radiantly beautiful smile, all perfectly oblivious to what I am going to be asking of him and how demanding it will be, and this immense amount of guilt floods into me, as though I've been injected with it. I don't know if this will hurt Edward or not, but it is not only necessary for my safety as well as his, but for my own sanity.

"All right, Bella," Edward says after a very long, painful moment of silence, gently, encouragingly. Like a gentle lovers caress. "What conditions do you have in mind?"

I still can't seem to bring myself to say it. God, Bella, get it over with!

"Bella?" I regard Edward miserably, and he chuckles a little at my reluctance. When I still can't seem to say anything, he says, very seriously, "Please, the suspense is killing me, love."

Deciding to get it over with before Edward loses his patience, I lift my hands level to Edward's eyes, palms upward, so he can have clear view of the slightly blistered, but healing rope burns that had accumulated so painfully there on my wrists from when he had bounded me to the steering wheel of his car forcefully.

"Do you remember how I got these?" I whisper, and he nods before looking quickly away from me. I thought I heard a low, disgusted grunt coming from the back of his throat, and he makes a face, wincing. "You said it was never your intention to hurt me -"

"- and it wasn't." He doesn't dare meet my gaze. His voice is very quiet.

"But you did," I continued, despite his obvious discomfort on the subject.

I scramble off the bed, standing directly in front of him, so he can't avoid me any longer. At last he meets my gaze, and there was a brief flash of regret in his green eyes. I didn't like hurting him like this, but if this was the only way to get my point across... He rubs his hands together, regarding me anxiously as I gather all of my hair into my hands and lift it away from my neck. I'm not entirely sure if the marks are still there from where his teeth had penetrated the skin or not roughly a few weeks ago, but I hear him expel a shaky breath of air.

"By doing all of this, you hurt me," I say finally, firmly.

I could see by the expression on Edward's handsome face that he was trying to absorb all of this. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asks, quite casually, before hopping up off the bed and turning his back on me. He starts pacing around my room, back and forth restlessly.

I try to pick my words with care. "I-I think you need help, Edward. And I'm not saying that to be spiteful in any way, but... all of this... it's really hurting me..." I can't see his face or make out any expression, but I hear a sound – is he crying? "Ultimately, it hurts me to see you like this. I think we could really have something wonderful here... but I can't be with you when you're like this..."

Finally he looks back at me. His eyes are rimmed red and expression bleak and, as if reading my mind, he says firmly, "I know I need help. I'll see a psychologist or psychiatrist. Otherwise, it'll never stop..."

I couldn't seem to think of anything to say, so I only nodded, satisfied with his answer and the intense determination in his voice. I left him alone as I went into the bathroom. I felt lighter, as though there was a weight off my shoulders. Something that had been bearing me down for a while now, had been lifted.

When I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror, I am startled by the pasty girl looking back at me, the expression on her face. She looks genuinely happy, her face glowing. And then she realizes her hair is a mess, like some sort of birds nest or haystack, and she grimaces back at me as she tries to flatten it down with her fingers. But mostly she looks happy...

And I was happy, in some bizarre sense.

The prospect of being in a normal relationship with Edward, perhaps even sharing a life together, when he was seeing a psychologist and acting stable with his moods, was something so very exciting, when I thought about it.

But I knew it would be hard work.

Hard work for the both of us...

After I'm done in the bathroom, I enter my room to find Edward standing by my window, looking out.

I go to stand beside him and then instantly stop as the strong stench of smoke hits my nostrils and makes them burn. "Hey," I say loudly in frustration, and Edward tilts his head back to look at me, alarmed by the sound of my voice through the silence. "You can't smoke in my room! Charlie will kill you – or _me _more likely - if he smells it..."

Edward shrugs and gives a breathtaking smirk. "Technically I'm smoking _outside_ your window..."

"What, and there's a difference?" I tease, smiling.

Preparing myself for a smoke-induced headache, I stand next to him, examining his face closely without his knowledge as he looks out past my driveway. My stomach erupts into the same bizarre tingling turmoil as it did before when I watched him. Things seemed lighter between us, better, now that I knew Edward would try to get some help for his anger and mood swings. He looked distracted, but pleased at the same time. A stream of greyish-white smoke curls from his flawless lips and out the window and I have to quickly avert my eyes when he meets my gaze. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see him throw his cigarette out onto the asphalt before turning in my direction, his whole body and clothing dark in contrast to the bland white walls of my room and curtains.

"What would you say if I asked you to quit smoking?" I ask quietly, trying to break the sudden serious tension in the air as I peeked up at him. He makes a face and a gust of cold air from outside the window blows over us. It felt good, soothing against my skin. Edward was quiet as he thought it over for a moment.

"I would say that the cigarette lying out there was my very last one ever," he said after a long moment and when I looked up his green eyes were scanning my face, gauging my reaction. "There is absolutely nothing that I wouldn't do for you." I smile weakly at his words. "But, right now, I should probably leave while I can, love."

Some piece inside of me was suddenly filled with loss at his words and I didn't understand why.

I quickly moved closer over to the window, left eager and wanting, still waiting for a proper goodbye - a kiss or a simple breathtaking wide smile - hugging my arms across my chest and shivering at the biting breeze that was leaking in. But when I caught sight of Edward's face, his expression was pensive, his forehead creased. Something was definitely on his mind, I could tell. Was he planning something?

The keyword finally sunk in, straight through to the very pit of my stomach, leaving me nauseous. "W-wait. When you say 'leave'?" I began, nervous, my voice trembling, a sickening shiver passing through me that had nothing at all to do with the cold.

When he met my searching gaze, it was as if his green eyes were glazed over, as if he was looking straight through me. There was no light in his eyes anymore. They were possibly the worst, most heartbreaking eyes you could ever look into, all bloodshot and full of darkness. They say that when the light goes out in somebody's eyes, then there is probably no hope left for them. Did Edward believe that himself? Did he believe that there was no hope and that he could never change with whatever it was that was going on inside of him, even if he did see a psychologist?

Then his repeated words from last night, and the several nights before it, replayed through my head like a videotape, piercing through me like a stab each and every time:

_There has to be an end..._

_I know it has to stop..._

_I don't think I'll be able to stop..._

I realized then that sometimes someone can't be helped or saved, no matter how much it is redolent of them; this deep need for understanding. I couldn't help or save Edward. It had to start within himself.

Feelings of stupidity and self-pity flood through me as though I've been injected with it.

"Get dressed, love," Edward only said in a much brighter tone, leaving my harrowing question unanswered. "I'll go discuss this through with my father..." Before I could see his face, he had turned his back on me and I watched as he stepped over the ledge of my window, his long legs dangling off the side. Then he leaned back, and I heard him whisper softly: "Thank you, love. For everything."

I wasn't entirely sure what he was thanking me for, but it didn't offer any reassurance or condolence at all when my question remained unanswered and lingering in the air...

And then he was gone.

With Edward gone, my room is eerily still. Silent. Peaceful. The only thing left a reminder of what we had just done together was the bundle of my bed sheets on the hardwood floor. And then I saw it, a piece of paper folded and placed carefully on my pillow. I knew it must have been from Edward. I hesitated before walking slowly over and picking it up by one of the coiled corners. I opened it carefully to reveal Edward's extravagant handwriting, excitement and dread pulsating through me as I began to read:

_To the girl who will only ever truly touch my heart,_

_As I write this letter, I am sitting on your bed in the midst of watching you sleeping beautifully whilst regaining your strength from our love making approximately fifteen minutes ago. It breaks my heart to know that you are so blissfully oblivious to what is going on right now, but it has to be done._

_What we just did together was sincerely one of the most captivating, life-altering experiences I have ever done and felt in my entire life, and I will never forget it. Even when I'm dead and buried undeservingly six feet under the soil of your two very own feet, I will never let myself forget this magnificent moment that we have shared._

_I had this sudden urge, right now, while watching you sleeping like Sleeping Beauty, to leave something with you. Now, or else the chance might never come again. _

_I don't believe or feel that I am quite capable of expressing this to your face any longer, so I hope my words written here in this letter will do you justice._

_Sometimes I feel like a junkie (and as you read this, I am quite certain you'll be thinking this a poor analogy again, love...) But one minute something happens in my life, something unbelievably magnificent – like you, Bella – I am absolutely flying. I have this ever present feeling of floating. I am invincible!_

_It makes me so very overwhelmed with emotions that I cannot possibly grasp how to manage with it._

_The very next minute, just as suddenly, I'm taking a nose-dive – everything is so horribly uncontrollable, as it was when you declined my hand in marriage – and as I'm about to hit the ground with full-force, something will occur that will have me flying again. _

_If I had to live on without you I know I simply could not do it. And no one should ever expect I should. But I hope, I have this pleasant magnificent vision of you, my sweet Bella, walking on the beach, with your flowing dark hair shining in the sun. You had a sweet, bundle of joy in your arms. A little girl._

_She was our very own little girl._

_The very last thing I will tell you, simply because I hesitate to tell you out of fear that it will never truly happen, that because of my revelation it will indefinitely cause it not to happen, is that when my father bailed me out that dreadful morning after I hurt that man and acted so indecently in your company... everything was blue. _

_After I did what I did to that poor unsuspecting man, I caught a glimpse of your face, Bella. And when I saw your face, nothing else mattered. It was beyond heartbreaking. It truly is beyond telling how I felt to see you look at me in that way. It shattered my world completely to see you look at me in that way..._

_It was then that I realized I need help. It was then that I realized I had tainted everything simply by interfering in your existence, and for that, I truly am sorry. And while you may not find someone who loves you as much as I do, and to perhaps the absurd extremities that I do, the fact is and will always remain, is that I'm dangerous for you. While I'm existing like this, I'm not safe for you. And while I continue on loving you in this way I don't think I'll ever be._

_I said that I was willing to do anything within my power to change my behaviour for you, and if there is even the slightest chance in doing so that will then result in us being together again in the future, like I envisioned, then I'll do whatever measures possible to keep myself from hurting you whilst I go through my recovery._

_I once read that love's involved with spending time together. But spending time apart can lead to loving even _more_. If that truly is the case, then what little hope is there for me? What little hope is there left for us and a future with our own children? Because there is no reassurance or guarantee that I can offer, to promise you that I wouldn't hesitate to eradicate- for lack of a better word - and protect you from, say, the very next man who simply waltzes into the same room as you and asks you simply to pass the table salt, when I'm like this._

_I hope we will see each other again very soon,_

_My heart is yours, always._

_Edward._


	26. Satellite Heart

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Twilight and never will.**

**Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews. I am so glad that you all seem to like my writing, it's so startling, words cannot explain how much so... :) Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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_**One Month Later..**_

Life goes on, even with Edward in absence.

Everything quickly went back to the same old routine. I wake up, get dressed, meet Rosalie and Alice – and let's not forget Jasper, who was now practically joined to her hip – at school in the cafeteria. Then I go home, make dinner for Charlie, eat dinner with Charlie, and then I sleep.

Sleep...

Sleeping seemed to be the only thing I desired to do the most. Because sleep erases everything; sometimes I dream of him, his face, him being here with me. Sometimes I jolt awake and reach for him. Then I go back to sleep disappointed, because he's never there. It's always the same, but, then again, it's something entirely different – this wanting, this need...

I want him, and I need him. I realize that now.

* * *

In English class, we had to watch _Romeo & Juliet_ for an upcoming essay.

I didn't remember how good a movie _Romeo & Juliet_ was. I hardly heard a word of it. All I could seem to think about was Edward and where he was right now at this very moment, and what I overheard students saying about him. Wondering if things would work out all right between us, if it _would_ have to end, when I really didn't even want it to.

I began to realize it didn't matter what others thought, about right and wrong. It only mattered how you felt personally and if I could be with anyone, despite how unnerving and painful it had been between us, I would have wanted to be with Edward. And only Edward.

After school, I found Charlie in the kitchen reading the newspaper. If anyone would know where Edward would be, it would have to be him. My father often talked to Edward's father, that I was almost certain; I would have to fish for the information subtly out of him. I did it after dinner. I made Charlie his favourite meal, and he looked genuinely pleased. I knew that if he was pleased, he would talk more...

"The Cullen family? Sure. I know Dr. Cullen," he says proudly when I raise the subject of the Cullen's with him. "He's a very wonderful surgeon."

I nod. "And his son?" I ask.

Charlie groans, shaking his head. "Not too sure about his kid; I don't go too much on him."

I sit up straighter in my seat at his words. "Why not?" I ask urgently.

"He's always been trouble. While Dr. Cullen's an asset to the community, his son runs around causing trouble. Almost feel sorry for them." He pauses for a moment, thinking. "I had my doubts, when they moved here, and it seems I was right. That boy ought to settle down and give his parents a break. They're not even his real parents, for Christ sake..."

I'm confused. "What do you mean?"

I can tell Charlie was puzzled by my sudden interest, but he didn't seem to think too much of it. "The kid was adopted when he was a young boy. Of course, I don't think he even knows that..." Charlie frowns. "From what I've heard from Dr. Cullen, it was the only choice they had – to adopt the kid. It was in real unsanitary conditions where he lived... His mother wasn't so fit to raise him. According to Dr. Cullen, she had a whole range of psychological problems."

I thought this through for a moment, staring down at my hands which were folded on the table. Did Edward know that he was adopted? I wondered what his real mother would have been like. Could it have been possible that she had the same sudden, changing temperament as Edward did? For some reason, I assumed it would be very doubtful.

"Where is their son?" I ask at last, the very question I had been wondering since the very start. "I mean, he used to go to school with me..." I shrug, trying to seem indifferent.

"I'm not too sure of that..." We stare at each other for a moment, Charlie deep in thought, frowning earnestly. My heart was pounding in anticipation. And then my father finally said the words I so needed to hear: "Think he moved in with one of the Cullen's' friends. A lady. I remember Dr. Cullen saying she has a house down near the Olympic Peninsula."

* * *

I woke up suddenly during the night. It was as if I had been shaken awake and I lay there for a long moment, taking deep breaths to get over the shock of Edward leaving. Then it hit me and I leapt out of bed, stubbing my toe on the bed post and hopping over to my bedside drawer. I flicked on the lamp.

The white thin paper which contained Edward's most inward thoughts about us being together lay exactly where I had placed it a month ago. I hadn't touched it since. I couldn't seem to bring myself to. But now I found I could. It was the only reminder, that despite everything, we may still have something special ahead of us.

I picked it up and unfolded it. My hands shook so much. In an instance, I was conflicted. I wanted to either burn the letter or tear it up. But I didn't. Because it was the only thing – the last hope - to cling on to.

I knew what I was going to do. I resolved to go visit Edward, even if he did get angry or protested against it as soon as he saw me. Because I was beginning to realize I couldn't even remember what his face looked like. I couldn't seem to remember anything. It scared me more than anything ever before.

Now that I knew where he was, I _had_ to see him.

* * *

It took half an hour to drive to the Peninsula.

I was nervous. But mostly, I felt ill; ill because I wasn't sure what Edward would say or do when he saw me. But there was no denying I was excited about this. I needed this.

I needed him. And for some reason, it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be to find him.

I spotted Edward by the front door of the house. I didn't expect to see him there, out in the open, for some reason. It's amazing how much warmth and relief flooded through me at the mere sight of him. I couldn't see his eyes- he was wearing dark, tinted sunglasses and was holding a wooden acoustic guitar in his hands. I hadn't known he played; I assumed it was one of the many numerous unfortunate things I didn't know about him.

I realize a woman is standing with him, her back against the door. She looks older, about in her late twenties or early thirties. She is brunette, and beautiful in a very worldly way, tall and elegant. I was pitifully average in comparison, I was certain of it. I suddenly feel ashamed, that I am somehow intruding in on them, but I can't help but wonder who she is. What does she want with him? And, more importantly, has he moved on? Forgotten about me? Those were definitely the wrong questions to wonder about.

Of course, if he did move on and found somebody else, I could live through it. Or at least, I would have to.

It was bizarre, as if the roles had suddenly been reversed. I didn't realize how much I needed – or wanted – to be with Edward, until now.

I tried to control myself, reason with myself, as I slowly undid the buckle of my seatbelt. I tried to breathe slowly and deeply, willing my mind to think of nothing, but the reasons as to why I was here; to see Edward. To visit, even if it was the last time I ever would... if he has moved on with this other, older woman. I couldn't let my assumptions break me down. I would go over there, composed, and say hello. To both Edward and his new girlfriend. I wouldn't dare show how much this abrupt separation had affected me. At least not in front of them, I told myself. If I felt the need, I would grieve later in the privacy of my own room.

The sudden feelings of inconsolable loss wouldn't seem to leave me as I hopped out of my truck.

I took my time crossing the road. My hands began to shake.

As I get closer to the front of the house, I realize they aren't kissing or anything else for that matter. Suddenly, there didn't seem to be any kind of intimacy between them. They are just talking; Edward is using his free hand to emphasize whatever it is he is saying to the older woman, his guitar tucked underneath his arm. Then her impassive face lights up as she looks into my direction. Who was she? Was she his mother or a close family friend, perhaps?

There was denying I was suddenly hit with a bad dose of jealousy.

But I couldn't seem to suppress my doubts. If it was true – the worst case scenario – in which Edward had, in fact, already moved on barely within a month, I would try to go along with it. I would pretend no feelings had ever surfaced for him. I would act in an agreeable, friendly, accepting way.

The woman begins to walk over to me. Strutting, more like it. I wasn't certain if Edward had discovered me standing there or not; I couldn't see past her.

"Bella?" she asks in a quiet, puzzled voice, as though she might be wrong. Was she expecting somebody else? Was _he _expecting somebody else?

I hesitate, standing by the gate. "Yes," I say once I manage to finally find my voice. She opens it and beckons me in quickly with one whisk of her hand.

Along with the fear and confusion that was now beginning to pulsate through me, I was beginning to grow impatient. I so desperately needed answers to my minds restless questions. Who was this woman? Has Edward already moved on? Why is he living here with her?

"Bella?"

My heart stopped for one single second as I heard his gentle voice. It was laced with confusion, and surprise. I found I couldn't seem to look in his direction. I was afraid of what I might see, what it might do to me...

"Bella Marie Swan?"

There was a loud thud of something heavy being placed against concrete, and then came the warm inviting feeling of someone's hand's grasping my waist. I couldn't ignore him any longer. He was closer to me than I expected. It was Edward. Edward's arms, around my waist, and when I looked up, I found him watching my face attentively, his green eyes twinkling.

It was then that I realized if this woman was in fact Edward's new girlfriend, she probably wouldn't have liked the way he was looking at me, the way he was holding my body tightly against his. She would have been in a huff about it. She would have most likely stormed off, or demanded an explanation, even.

She did neither.

It was then that I realized my questions didn't need to be verbally answered. Because with the way he was looking at me, it sent a reassuring tingling turmoil in my stomach. I ignored the older woman, who was lingering around in the background behind me, and flung my arms around Edward's neck, practically jumping up and attacking him. I didn't seem to care that there was someone there, witnessing me hugging him.

I missed Edward and now I had finally been given the chance to see him once again, simultaneously restoring his face and body into my mind. And nothing else seemed to matter except this, except our long awaited, joyous reunion. In this very moment, everything felt surreal, so right. Perfect. I didn't know how long it would last... And I didn't seem to want to waste time pondering.

"Oh, Bella..." Edward whispers in my ear gently, as I clung onto him for dear life.

"I'm sorry. I've just _missed_ you!" My face suddenly feels wet, something trickling down my cheeks. It dawns on me that I must be crying. Great. It wasn't something I expected. And I didn't anticipate it being so arduous to let Edward go and release him. My body seemed to stick to him like glue, never wanting to separate.

I tried to soak up whatever little dignity I had left as I slipped my arms away from his neck and wiped my eyes, composing myself. I found the woman grinning broadly at our antic.

Edward looked acutely embarrassed, running a hand across his face, his cheeks a slight pink tinge. "Uh, Bella, this is Irina," he explains, gesturing toward the older woman. "Irina – this is my Bella. The girl I've been mentioning about..." My heart was pounding as I caught the way he said my name, full of ownership, as though I was personally his and not for anyone else.

The woman laughs as she regards me warmly, a pleasant sound. "Oh, yes. So this is the infamous Isabella Marie Swan that I keep hearing about?"

I look over at Edward at her words to find him looking down at his sneakers abashedly, before stuffing his hands into his jean pockets, his cheeks still flushed pink. A small, strained smile was threatening to pull up the corners of his mouth.

I couldn't help but beam proudly at her words. "Um, yes," I mumble uncertainly, wringing my hands nervously. "I don't exactly know what Edward has been saying about me to you, but yes..."

She laughs again. "Don't worry." She touches my arm confidentially. "It's all been very good things. Edward never says a bad word about anybody. Do you, Edward?" She motions at him with a hand furtively, inviting him into the conversation.

Edward chuckles his low, lovely laugh at her words and I found that I had missed hearing it. "Um, yeah," he says, sarcastically. He meets my gaze, his brows furrowed. "Isabella and I are going into my room now," he says to her quickly, meaningfully, taking my hand suddenly, to my upmost surprise. He gives me a quick, breathtaking smile before pulling me along, carefully stepping over his guitar that was resting on the pavement near the doorway as we went.

He lets go of my hand when we reach the long hallway of the house. "So, why exactly are you here, love?" Edward asks, and the question surprises me. I thought he knew why. I could hear the unmistakable tension in his voice.

I pause, confused. "Do you want me to leave?" I ask, feeling suddenly hurt.

Edward turns on his heel to look me directly in the face. I couldn't help but notice there was something different about him, but I couldn't exactly pinpoint what that difference was. Then I realized it was his eyes. "Honestly? Yes." His harsh sincerity startled me – that wasn't what I expected he would say.

"Oh." It was all I could manage. I try to breathe slowly, to get over the sudden shock, studying his handsome face. I saw that there was no contradiction in his words; he actually wanted me to leave...

"I would appreciate it," he continues when I can't seem to say anything articulate or move. I could tell he was trying to be very patient with me. His voice this time was encouraging. Not so much a blatant command, but a suggestion.

The knife of realization sinks in deeper; he obviously has moved on. He doesn't want me anymore. That's the only possible explanation to it...

Suddenly, my plans of acting composed and accepting about it went straight out the window. I felt my bottom lip start to quiver.

I hear Edward sigh loudly, obviously waiting and beginning to lose his patience. He slips closer in front of me and stands there; just looking at me, his painfully gorgeous face the only thing in my world right now.

"Hmm." Edward makes a show of gasping, and then laughs, somehow breaking the tension. "I can always carry you out in my loving arms..." How could he be so cruel and heartless to laugh and joke at me right now? Then the humour suddenly disappears as fast as it came. "Bella?" he regards me very seriously now. He lifts his hands slowly and starts playing with a strand of my hair, twirling it into a little knot with his fingers. "I don't want you to leave," he says, his voice dropping so low that I wasn't even certain if I imagined him saying it or not.

"It's fine." My voice came out as a whisper unintentionally. "I understand." I try to make my tone of voice much brighter, but it doesn't seem to work. "I'll just go..."

I wonder what he sees on my face, if my hurt truly is that transparent, because he suddenly looks uncomfortable. "Bella, I _don't_ want you to leave. It was a joke – a very poor, tasteless one." He sounds sincere, at least. "I'm only concerned that when the time does come for you to leave, I won't be able to let you..."

"Well, you don't have to be concerned." I try to sound confident and optimistic for him, but my voice comes out only slightly high-pitched with relief at his confession. I try to change the subject. "So, why are you living here with... Irina exactly?" I glance back down the long hallway, anywhere but at him, so he can't notice that I'm worried and, unsurprisingly a little jealous by this.

"Irina is a close friend of my fathers," Edward explains quietly. "She allowed me to stay here for a month or two, until I get settled with my treatment. It was very generous of her..."

"Yes," I agree, satisfied with his answer. "But why treatment?" I look up at Edward, searching for any giveaway sign by the expression on his face.

He frowns at me, then shakes his head. "Um, medication," I thought I heard him mumble quite inaudibly, before turning on his heel and entering one of the rooms of the house. I follow closely behind him, innocently observing the room.

It looks as if a nuclear bomb has exploded in here. There is a large double bed dominating the room, two bedside tables positioned next to it with all the drawers' open and loose papers hanging out. There's even a bundle of dirty socks on the end of the bed. The emerald green carpet, in which I observe so pitifully, matches the colour of Edward's eyes, is absolutely covered in pieces of paper, some blank and some with his extravagant handwriting on them.

"Uh, please excuse the clutter," Edward says with a laugh and when I meet his gaze, he actually looks quite pleased with himself. I couldn't imagine why.

I try to look dissaproving, but can't contain a smile at the defiant, proud look on Edward's face. "Does Irina know about this?" I ask, on the verge of laughter.

He darts me a wry look. "No. Why would she?" He suddenly groans at something. "Uh, would you mind standing over here for just one minute while I gather a few things?" He suddenly looks distracted, on edge, before bolting over toward me and kneeling down, collecting some of the papers on the carpet next to me.

I suddenly start feeling paranoid. Why was Edward being so secretive? I caught sight of one of the papers before he could hide it from me. It was drawing. A drawing of a young girl, with dark flowing hair that seemed to cover the side of her face like a curtain. But who was she? Was she... me?

"Okay," Edward says quietly, absentmindedly, before standing, towering over me. "Um, how would you like to stay for dinner?" he asks to my surprise, and then I settle myself in for a long, pleasant evening with Edward.


	27. Inconsequential

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to their rightful owner in author Stephenie Meyer. infringement of any sort is not intended. Thank you all so much for your reviews, favourites, and alerts, I am really glad that still seem to like my story. I really do appreciate it. Hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

* * *

"Will Irina be joining us for dinner?"

"No, she will not be." Edward says curtly, as though it should be obvious. "Irina actually has a date tonight. She's seeing her neighbour – Laurent. He's a very intriguing man."

"Oh. Well, good for her." I shrug, staring down at my plate as I speared a piece of veal with my fork. I didn't know what to say to that...

Edward is silent for a moment. "Why don't you drink your glass of wine?" he gently prompts.

I didn't know if I would be able to, in a way I felt too nervous, on edge even, to even drink in front of Edward. I wasn't much of a drinker so I was almost certain even the least amount of alcohol would go straight to my head. But when I look up, I realize Edward doesn't have a glass himself. Great.

"What, you're not drinking?"

"Actually, I'm abstaining." He laughs at some kind of inside joke I don't get, shaking his head. "I'm on a special sort of diet but, please, do enjoy it without me..." He stares at me, waiting, smiling wryly. It starts to make me feel uncomfortable so I quickly stretch out and reach for my wine glass and take a small sip, then he looks away, to my immediate relief. The alcohol is very strong and burns my throat. But it has a pleasant, fruity taste to it. I could tell it would be enough to make me loosen up around Edward, feel more relaxed around him.

I'm burning up with curiosity over this newfound knowledge. "So, what else are you abstaining from?" I ask.

I couldn't imagine a 'special' diet where Edward wouldn't be allowed to drink alcohol. But then I suddenly remember how he briefly mentioned about medication and treatment before. Was this why? I didn't want to bring the subject up again; he looked so uncomfortable about it before. So I didn't.

Edward gives me a quick, mischievous smile. My heart splutters in reaction. "Everything," he says softly, raising one eyebrow. He leans closer toward me, elbows on the table, as he says in a hushed whisper: "Everything... but _sex_."

I almost stop breathing.

"_Oh_," I manage, before staring down at my half empty plate of Italian cuisine. I realized it was starting to become very hot in the room; my T-shirt was beginning to cling to the sweat now adhered to my skin at the stormy subject Edward was now all of a sudden bringing up.

There was uncomfortable silence between us for a long moment after that. I think Edward must have gathered that I was uncomfortable because I heard him clear his throat before beginning to collect his plate and silverware.

"Have you finished eating, love?" I looked up to find him already standing, staring right at me.

Holy crow. For some reason, I was starting to feel very shy all of a sudden. Why was I feeling this way? Perhaps it was because now that he was standing, I could see the full-length of his body, the black suit, black shirt, and green emerald tie he was wearing. He truly looked dashing. Handsome. Resplendent. No words could possibly express how he looked justice. And I was just pretty much gaping open-mouthed and wide-eyed at him like some kind of idiot...

"What?" He demands, quickly looking down at his suit and shoes, confused, his brows furrowed.

"Um, nothing," I mumble incoherently, as I too gather my silverware and plate and quickly stumble to my feet. "Dazzling me," I say under my breath, but I wasn't certain if Edward heard me or not – he didn't act like he did - he just sauntered straight over to the basin - so it spared me all of the embarrassment and ineptness I was feeling right now.

"How is school, love?" Edward asks me as he stands at the basin, rinsing his plate underneath the tap. I stand behind him, subtly fanning myself so he won't catch the movement of my hand. "Am I missing anything while not being in attendance?"

There was something there hidden in his smooth voice that I couldn't identify. A double meaning. I was silent for a moment, pondering, before I realized he was peeking back at me from behind his shoulder, watching my reaction.

"No," I say speedily, handing him my dirty plate and silverware as he silently offers with a hand. "We're just doing an essay on _Romeo & Juliet_ in English." I shrug, chewing the inside of my mouth. "Nothing important..."

"And Alice and Rosalie?" he prompts as he sets the plates gently on the sink to air-dry.

"I see them at school," I say brusquely, confused as to where our conversation was suddenly heading. Did he assume that we wouldn't be friends anymore? Thankfully, Alice and Rose were naturally forgiving and I was forgiving in return. They were worried, more than anything else, about my abrupt disappearance – like Charlie was.

"Hmm." Edward seems satisfied by my answer, nodding silently. He swivels around on the spot, meeting my gaze, his hands in his suit pockets. "What about Jacob Black?"

I stare at him for a moment, startled. Why was he all of a sudden bringing Jacob into the conversation? I hadn't seen Jacob – or even had the time to see Jacob. I was positive Edward already knew that...

I look down at my hands, twiddling my thumbs together as I say gently, "Edward, you _know_ I don't see Jacob anymore. There's no reason to," I admit honestly. "Well, unless he comes over with his father Billy to watch baseball games..." I feel the sudden intense need for a subject change. "What have _you_ been doing instead of school?" I ask.

Thankfully, Edward doesn't seem to want to press the other conversations any further. He smiles at me crookedly. "Honestly? Absolutely nothing, love."

"There must have been something?" I insist, smiling.

Then the strangest expression appears on his face. I thought that perhaps he was going to ignore me and deflect the question back onto me somehow, but then he answers by gesturing with his hands into one of the rooms in the hallway. He abandons the plates that are drying on the sink and turns on his heel, walking into the other room and I slowly follow.

I instantly recognize the room as his bedroom – the mess and the clutter of papers made it a sure-fire sign.

He sits perched on the very end of his large bed and it was then that I realized he was holding his acoustic guitar between his arms. Suddenly this bizarre feeling of excitement raced through me at the sight; I found that what I wanted most was to hear him play.

"What I meant was that I haven't been doing anything productive," Edward says quietly as I sit beside him on the bed.

He sighs heavily and then there is a pluck of various strings, a harmony that seems to simply connect to no known piece of music. The poignant tune he produces seems to emerge from nowhere, seems to originate through the tugging and strumming of his fingertips and resounds beautifully through to my ears. As I silently watch Edward play, the corners of his mouth pull down as he immerses himself in playing the guitar, his forehead creased, expression meditative, absorbed. It was one of the most overwhelmingly beautiful things I have experienced in my life, to see Edward play the acoustic guitar and so expertly. It was hard to swallow, that this was one of the things I had painfully missed out on since the very start...

With one forefinger brushing lightly against the set of strings, the music immediately came to an end.

I realize Edward is staring at me now and I had to try very hard in keeping control of my nerves; the wine didn't seem to have helped one bit. He looks at me as if I am an object of scrutiny, his twinkling green eyes scanning the whole of my face. In that moment, with Edward looking at me like that with such high attention, it was as if he was silently trying to communicate something – that I was everything to him and that, retrospectively, he _did_ truly love me in his own perverse way - that he did love me the way he said so in his letter, even to absurdly extreme degrees...

"Edward, that was_ beautiful_..." I realize I am whispering for some reason.

Then, without moving anything but his eyes, my body seemed to sag underneath the release of his gaze. He placed the guitar long ways on the green carpet before meeting my gaze once again. "My psychologist recommended it," he admits, embarrassment clouding his handsome features as he said the word 'psychologist'. "It's a form of therapy for those who enjoy music and play proficiently, for example. He said it may relieve my restless mind until our next session..."

I don't want to push it further in fear of Edward getting upset or feeling uncomfortable over the topic, but I can't seem to help it. "You're seeing a psychologist?" I was determined to know more for some reason.

He nods slowly. "Yes, love." He smiles faintly. "I see him on a regular basis. Twice a week, in fact. It's very helpful. They say it increases the recovery by fifty percent, including treatment, of course..."

"And your medication?"

Edward didn't seem too bothered with me probing openly for answers, to my immense relief. He combs a hand through his bronze tousled hair, before answering softly, "It helps with stabilizing the moods, love."

I nodded, clamping my mouth tightly shut to suppress the most blissful thoughts inside of me, trying to collect myself. I felt unbelievably calm on the outside, but on the inside my emotions were raging a war inside my head for I was undeniably excited for what all of this meant; perhaps everything wouldn't have had to end between Edward and I after all.

Of course, it was too early to tell. But I felt inwardly joyous over the prospect of possibly having a normal relationship with Edward in the not too distant future... He was seeking treatment for whatever it was that was going on erratically inside of him and with that knowledge alone I began to wonder if love truly could conquer everything.

Wait –_ love_? I shuddered at the sudden silent declaration. But I knew for certain now, that if Edward could be like this, be who he _truly _was, with me, perhaps we did have a shot here? And that maybe, just maybe, there were no more 'might be' or uncertainty about it. Perhaps I did love Edward? It was then that I realized no sane girl would have possibly held on for such long despite the things Edward had put me through without a definite reason...

I hear Edward chuckle softly and realize he must be laughing at my expression. I had to swallow before I could look at his face again; his eyes were suddenly twinkling with excitement. What was going on right now? But he got up and trotted over to the bedside table opposite us, and when he came back over to my side, I saw he was holding something in his hands; a small satin pouch. I remain seated and confused as he stands directly in front of me. He reaches into the pouch and withdraws a dark purple jeweller's box.

"No!" I realize I shouted the small word and immediately regret it. Edward's handsome face fell ever so slightly in disappointment, but then he automatically regained his confidence as he opened the box slowly, taking out a small silver ring.

What was he-?

"Isabella Marie Swan," he says quietly, wistfully, before sliding down onto his knees. "You don't need to look so panicked, love. It's not quite what you're thinking," he assures me quickly before smiling widely.

I feel suspicious all of a sudden, eyeing him critically. "It's not?"

"No." He takes my hand and reaches out his hand with the ring sitting on his palm; I cup my hands together as he turns the delicate silver ring into my waiting palms. I lift it slowly, observing the small silver band as Edward says: "It's a promise ring, love." I hold the ring up into the dim light that is leaking in through the window and it glistens. "It's nothing as severe as an engagement ring, of course. My sanity would have had to be long gone for me to actually propose considering the conundrum of last month..."

Oh. "What does it mean?" I bring myself to ask through several gasps.

I peek down at Edward to see him looking up at me through the thick lashes of his eyes, an expression of eagerness left unconcealed on his face. "It simply means that this road of my life that I am walking, I simply cannot do it alone. That, no matter what happens along the way; everything is next to inconsequential, when you are treading that path with me..."

I am suddenly confused by his choice of words. "A-And what path are you talking about exactly, Edward?"

"According to my psychologist, I have _Bipolar Disorder_, love."


	28. Wanting Nothing Else But This

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Twilight. All characters belong to S. Meyers.**

**I want to say a massive thank you to everyone for expressing your interests still in my story. I really appreciate it, and as indicated by you all lovely readers, I will continue on with this story and complete it because I certainly owe it to you all to let it have it's fitting conclusion. I am really overwhelmed by the generous responce from you all; words cannot explain how much so. :-) **

**So, on with the story. I really hope this chapter is all right and that it isn't tediously boring. I love you all so much for sticking with me :-)  
CK XO**

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I wonder what Edward sees on my face, because he suddenly looks nervous. He quickly stands and plops down onto the bed next to me, before saying abruptly under his breath, "If it's too much for you to handle, I understand completely, love." He starts talking faster and faster by the minute, his expression apprehensive. "If you want something fresh... someone a little more... different and less difficult, I could attempt to understand that also, love." He lowers his voice, frowning. "Of course, I would try to -"

I hold a finger up to his lips and he immediately falls silent. "No," I say firmly. What can I say to you, Edward? What can I possibly say to make you realize? "Please don't ruin this moment, Edward..." Of course, that was a lie within itself. Nothing could possibly mar the perfection of this moment.

Edward sits up straight and raises one eyebrow. "I'm a little confused..."

I scrutinize the silver ring that's on my middle finger, turning it this way and that way, appreciating the way it shines against the pale light against it. "It... it's_ perfect_." I can't seem to find the words. They seem to stumble quickly out of my mouth, "I _don't_ want anything else." I meet Edward's gaze to find him watching me cautiously, still, as if waiting for the blow. "I _don't _want anyone else, Edward."

He is silent for a long moment, striving to digest this. "Oh." And then his face breaks out into a breathtaking wide smile, and he suddenly exudes this overwhelming wave of delight. "Are you_ saying_ what I _think_ you're saying, love?"

"Yes," I answer tentatively. And then, without registering what is happening, Edward hops up off the bed and scoops me up into his arms, a heavy one hundred and ten pounds, sneakers and all, and swings me around. It was hard not to respond to his enthusiasm when he was being like this.

He kisses me and after a moment of hesitation, I begin to kiss him back, his lips warm and soft as they move against mine, and then everything felt right between us in that very moment. Better than all right, in fact. My body and head feels lighter, and I sigh against his mouth with the goodness of knowing for certain that now we did have a future together, no matter how far away it seemed, and finally, _finally_ knowing that what was going on inside of Edward had a name, although not quite fully understanding.

* * *

It didn't seem right leaving Edward. It was bizarre how a ring, so small but, with its significance, weighed so heavily down onto my conscience.

It was dark when Edward walked me slowly out toward my truck, leading the way, holding my hand in his. He let go of my hand – to my immense disappointment - as he stopped by the door of my truck, and it was almost as if I immediately missed the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his skin against mine.

Edward suddenly looks nervous as he holds open the door of the truck for me. "Please keep your headlights on at all times and, _please_, for the sake of my wellbeing and sanity, _do not_ cross over the double-lines." He euphemizes. "I'm not the only reckless, erratic driver out there – remember that, love..."

I feel a weird combination of warmth and despair over Edward's sudden display of excessive concern. I felt it necessary to lighten the mood in one way or another. "Well, if I get pulled over and fined for being under the influence – I'm blaming you," I tease lightly, smiling. "You practically coerced me into drinking that glass of wine," I add lightly.

Edward sighs wistfully and then smirks at me. "Oh love, I'll accept the blame and punishment willingly every day of the week." I catch the sarcasm in his tone and can't help but giggle.

"I might just have to take you up on that..."

He smiles widely at my remark, a faraway and dreamy look appearing in his green eyes. "Hmm. Lashing out, biting and beatings of any kind - I'm your man..." He seems to be enjoying the idea more than he should be. "I'm willing to submit eagerly, and you certainly know how to keep a man up all night fantasizing of such ordeals."

This strikes me as hilarious for some reason and I laugh loudly and freely. "Edward Cullen, you are seriously a weird boy!"

Edward furrows his brow and tries to keep a straight face with success. "Hmm. I know," he says very seriously. He reaches out a hand and touches my cheek and I can feel myself going red. "How would you like to meet my parents next weekend?" he asks gently and I have to stifle a gasp at his words.

Meeting Edward's parents, it was an idea I never thought of before. I was immediately horrified at the dismal thoughts that came with his request; what would his parents think of me? What if they didn't like me? What if they blamed me for what was happening to their son? But once the terror quickly subdued, I realized I was actually dying to meet them; dying to meet the very people, who raised Edward since he was a young boy, the very parents who, thinking back to Charlie's admission, were very generous to have accepted him into their family, to remove him from the qualms of his previous childhood – although I didn't know for certain if Edward knew he was adopted as a boy or not.

"I would love to meet your parents," I admit reluctantly after a moment.

There was a minute of silence where we just stared at each other, nervously. And then finally Edward put his arms around me and I buried my face into the collar of his shirt. I inhaled through my nostrils sharply, trying to breathe in the scent of him for something to cling onto, to get me through the week until we saw each other again next weekend. Oddly enough, I found I didn't want to leave him, didn't want to move away from the warmth of his body as he hugged me tightly against him. And then he kissed my forehead and said, so quietly that I wasn't certain I was hearing him properly or not: "Take care until we meet then, love."


	29. Home Isn't Where The Heart Is

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing to do with Twilight, and never will. Obviously. :-) Thnk you so much for the reviews. I really hope you enjoy this chapter and that it gives a little insight into Edward's parents and family life.

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"Perhaps this wasn't quite a good idea, love," Edward says apprehensively as he drives his car into a private road, following the line of large green trees that are planted along the driveway like a maze.

I could tell he was nervous about having me meet his parents; as he pulled over, he sat silently in the car for a long moment, head leaning back against the seat, breathing in and out slowly, his eyes closed.

"Edward, I'm just as nervous as you are," I assure him softly. "Besides your father's a doctor. He sounds like a very admirable man from what I've heard."

He opens his eyes and glances outside the window, the corners of his mouth pulled down as he makes a face. "Yes, he certainly is admirable." I catch the tension in his voice. "I only suggested this because I adore you beyond reason or rhyme. The whole thing is surreal; I cannot believe you actually agreed to this, love." He finally meets my gaze while tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "If you were smart, you would have lied to avoid all of this..."

That stung. "Thanks. Well, then maybe I'm not smart," I bite back sarcastically, undoing the buckle of my seatbelt.

He sighs loudly and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Can we erase that comment and start over again please?" he asks resignedly through clenched teeth. I ignore him, sniffing loudly. I didn't enjoy the thought of having an argument with Edward right now but I was feeling defensive and on edge, partly due to my own anxiousness of meeting Edward's family. He leans over in his seat and kisses my cheek softly. "I'm sorry, love. I apologize." He starts stroking my face with his fingers. "My father and I don't seem to get along very well, but then that's an understatement on how much so. The fact that I'm enduring being in the very same room as him proves that I love you more than you can possibly imagine..."

"Why are you so angry with him?" I ask, and Edward cringes away from me at the question. "By the way you speak of him; it's obvious that you are."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does, Edward."

He sighs loudly and rubs his forehead with his fingertips. "Because he is simply a cheat and a liar, Bella. Is that explanation enough for you?" Instead of looking at me while answering, he looks outside the window, his eyes narrowed in frustration.

"But -" I pause to absorb what he has just said. "What exactly did he do that makes him a cheat and a liar, Edward?"

"What did he do?" He repeats the question gently a few times, pondering out loud, before turning his head in my direction, his expression one of hatred. "He hurt my mother in the most unforgivable way imaginable. Isn't that reason enough?"

"But I don't -"

Edward interrupts me quietly, "I rode by his office several times. I saw him outside with a woman, Bella." I realize he is watching my face as he says this. "He was with another_ woman_ who wasn't my _mother_..." he says it slowly and I realize he is deeply anguished by this fact.

"But then... it doesn't mean that they were doing anything, Edward. They could have just been... talking, or something..."

Edward shakes his head. "Bella, you don't understand. He sees her once every month or so. I'm not exactly certain if it's still continuing on between them, but then – what? What more could there possibly be?"

I sit in silence for a moment, thinking this through. "But then... do you think your father is still in love with your mother? _Why_ would he... see another woman? Does he seem unhappy or something?"

Edward thinks this through for a moment then meets my gaze, his expression grim. "I don't know," he admits sadly after a second. He lowers his head and closes his eyes, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "Will you please forget I even mentioned this, love? I want to get through this evening as quickly as possible..."

"Of course," I agree without a moment's hesitation. We both hop out of the car and up the steps on the veranda and Edward hesitates before knocking on the door three times.

A man, who I am guessing is Edward's father, immediately answers.

Simply by looking at him, you wouldn't assume he was at all like Edward said in his car. Edward's father doesn't say anything, just stares at me for a moment, then back at Edward, who I notice is looking at his father with an expression of unconcealed hatred. Edward's father is shorter than Edward by barely an inch, thin, and angular. He doesn't much look like Edward at all, but then it takes me a moment to remember that Edward was adopted as a very young boy. He has short peroxide blond hair, slate blue eyes, and a thin mouth whose corners turn up a little in amusement.

Edward clears his throat loudly and then says, "Carlisle, this is Bella Swan. Bella, this is my father Carlisle."

Mr. Cullen steps forward and extends one of his hands, and I step forward and shake it. "Hello, Mr. Cullen. It's very wonderful to meet you," I mumble anxiously.

"No, please call me Carlisle. Edward does." I notice when he says his sons name, he says it with a distinguishable amount of disappointment in his tone. He shoves his hands into the pockets of the presentable charcoal gray suit he is wearing before moving out of the way to let us in. I hear Edward sigh heavily as he enters the house and I slowly follow in behind him. "Your mother is in the kitchen, Edward. Perhaps you should inform her that we have a guest; she'll be very grateful to hear of it..."

"Fine," Edward only says sharply.

Edward leads the way, walking into the narrow hallway of the house. He pauses and swivels around to look at me as he reaches one of the doors, which I am assuming is the kitchen, and exchanges a nervous glance with me. "I apologize for putting you through this, love," he says quietly, and then he opens the door.

The delicious scent of food wafts into the air as I enter. A beautiful woman with long, dark dangling hair is arranging drinks onto a tray and then she sees me and smiles warmly. The smile immediately widens as Edward bustles into the kitchen behind me and I turn around, taking the moment to look at him; he's absolutely beautiful. He is wearing a black, studded leather jacket and a white cotton dress shirt with cuffs that dangle undone below the sleeves, black jeans and military boots. He is staring at his mother tensely, on guard.

"Edward?" His mother practically yells at the top of her lungs and the relief radiating off her is overwhelming.

She rushes around the kitchen and throws her arms around her son and kisses his cheek lightly. "Oh, Edward, I wasn't sure when you would be visiting home," she says, softly. "I assumed that you would never forgive us for what we did..." For some reason, I find this moment between them incredibly touching and I am in near tears and I don't exactly know why. It suddenly feels as if I am intruding on something very intimate and special between the pair.

His mother is wearing an incredulous expression mixed with mirth as she takes a good look at her son. "What is _that_," she says as she runs her fingertips across Edward's unshaven chin, smiling. He watches my face as she touches his. "You're not a man yet, Edward," she says, warmly. "You're still just a boy with fuzz..."

Edward smiles faintly. "Mom." He takes her hands away from his face and holds them. "I'd like for you to meet my Bella. She's very important to me." He looks over at me. "She's my _girlfriend_." There was no denying I was surprised when Edward introduced me as that yet it felt right. Necessary. Fitting... I must look stricken because Edward looks a little guilty, but his eyes are twinkling. "Bella, this is my mother Esme." The way he speaks her name, I could tell he was very fond of her and with reason.

Before I could even register what was happening, she flings her arms around me and embraces me tightly. I catch Edward rolling his eyes behind her back and have to stifle a surprised laugh. She takes firm hold of my shoulders and looks at me, her face welcoming and kind.

"It's such a pleasure to meet you, Bella," Esme gushes breathlessly. "To meet the girl who is taming our Edward from his wild ways..." She laughs loudly, a very pleasant, gentle sound, and then releases me before glancing back over at her son, an expression of guilt on her beautiful face. "Of course, I'm joking," she assures me quietly. "Edward has never been a wild one. But I always assumed he was, well..." she makes a face, looking as if she is deciding whether she should finish her sentence or not. "Never mind." She waves a hand dismissively.

Edward intercedes at last. "Mom, I'd like for Bella to join us for dinner." He says politely, uncertain, but polite.

Esme grins. "Of course." Then she ushers Edward out of the kitchen quickly, to my surprise. When he is out of the room, she nods at me and says in a hushed whisper, "I see you're wearing a ring. You and Edward aren't..." She doesn't finish her sentence, but I think I already know what she is asking.

"No," I assure his mother with a smile. "We're just..." I falter. I didn't exactly know _what_ to say to his mother about the ring.

She looks a little disappointed. "I'm sorry, it's just Edward never told me he was dating anyone," she admits gently. She glances at me quickly, as though worried she might have offended me, and then continues, "I thank you for sticking with Edward. I know he can be a little... difficult to deal with sometimes, especially after what happened last time." She smiles at me, sadly.

I am about to ask her what exactly she means by this, but then the timer on the oven goes off.

She waves me out of the kitchen affectionately, and I leave her alone to continue on with her cooking. But her comment lingered in my head, unanswered. What could she mean 'after what happened last time'? I thought it through for a moment as I walked slowly down the hallway, but then the voices coming from in one of the other rooms drowned out all of my worries and confusion.

As I reach the voices in the dining room, I see Edward talking to his father. Arguing, in fact. I feel immediately guilty for intruding on them, but I overhear his father Carlisle say loudly, while using his hands for emphasize: "_Love_? You two probably haven't even the slightest idea of what it means! Kids throw it around nowadays, right?"

"I _know_ I love her, Carlisle," I hear Edward affirm, his voice soft and compelling. "But perhaps you are right. Perhaps I don't know what it means – and perhaps _you_ don't either!"

Carlisle looks at his only son with an expression of exasperation, his eyes protruding. "Now listen here, Edward. We didn't raise a son so that he could-"

"You're not listening to me, Carlisle!" Edward yells it out through clenched teeth and then he immediately falls quiet as he sees me standing there, probably gaping at the both of them like some idiotic girl. They both look at me, almost waiting for me to go so that they can both finish arguing with each other.

And then Esme pokes her head out into the dining room.

She opens her mouth to say something, smiling warmly, and then sees Edward and his father and their expressions of pure frustration and hostility, shock coming across her beautiful face, and then she meets my eyes and beckons me quickly back into the kitchen. I quickly follow her, trying my very hardest to forget what I had just witnessed with difficulty; Edward was telling his father that he loved me, and with such overwhelming conviction that it startled me. It took me a long moment to wrap my head around it.

In the kitchen, Esme looks immediately abashed. "I'm sorry. Things have been difficult with Edward and his father lately. I've been trying to get Carlisle to repair the situation between them, but then Edward is so obstinate..." She says quietly, shaking her head. I rush in to help Esme out as she gathers all the silverware and knives. She smiles and touches my arm confidentially. "Thank you, sweetheart," she says softly.

The fray in the dining room seems to get louder and louder by the minute. I hear Carlisle shouting, "What did you do last month, Edward? You ditched school to go to Las Vegas so you can pick up strippers! Are you _that_ desperate to rebel against us?"

"I wasn't doing it to rebel against you. Don't flatter yourself-" Edward retorts, his velvety voice rising.

"Oh, my." Esme sighs loudly, her gentle voice breaking through the stifling tension in the air radiating from in the dining room. She stacks all the plates for dinner together and tucks them underneath her arm, the China clattering loudly together. "I-I'm so sorry about this, Bella," she whispers underneath her breath.

"Then _what_? What was it, Edward?" Carlisle shouts sternly. There's a short moment of silence where I assume Carlisle is waiting for his son to answer, and then he continues, "You tell me! I did not raise a son so that he'd turn into some psychopath that beats on people-"

"It was Isabella, all right?" Edward hisses quietly. "It was for her. It wasn't strippers, Carlisle. It was _her_!"

Esme slinks over toward the door and quickly closes it, suffocating the loud voices from in the dining room. I suddenly feel ill. Was this all my fault? They were obviously arguing because of me and because of what happened last month when Edward tried to force me into heading to Vegas with him.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" Esme asks to my surprise as she sets the plates on the table, and then squeezes my shoulder affectionately. "Please don't let them fighting concern you. They did it quite a lot when Edward was living here. I suppose it's a relief now that Irina let him stay with her for a few months..." She smiles at me sadly.

"It's fine," I tell her. "I know a lot of teenagers who argue with their parents – myself included." She doesn't seem to be comforted by this.

"How is he?" she asks with an expression of urgency. "Well, of course. I know he's almost himself again... Years ago, we thought about setting up an intervention even. Things were that bad." She almost looks guilty in confiding in me, but then continues in a hushed whisper, "You must be a very special girl, Bella. To make Edward smile the way he does..." She exhales shakily and then shields her face with a hand. "I was beginning to miss that smile – I was starting to think I'd never see it again - but then it seems you've made him truly happy..."

It takes me a moment to realize his mother is crying, her shoulders are shaking, and she shields her face with her hands, shying away from me. I feel the bile rise up in my throat, this overwhelming urge to comfort her; I had never seen a woman act the way she did before. It depressed me.

I wasn't quite sure how to comfort her or how to offer some gesture of reassurance. I was genuinely confused; had something happened to Edward a few years ago that made him act differently? Something that made his mother concerned for his safety or wellbeing?

I try to swallow against the lump in my throat, fiddling with the ring on my middle finger, as I say to her softly, "Edward's going to be fine, Mrs. Cullen. He's a very smart boy. He knows what he is doing and, for what it's worth, he _does_ actually seem happier."

And then she removes her hands, letting the tears stream down her face freely, hardly caring anymore about weeping in front of her guest. I tug a tissue from the box on the counter and hand it to her. She takes it and dabs her face. And then she smiles at me with a look on her face that I silently read as _thank you for telling me this._ And then she goes about setting the table again without another word.


	30. Sometimes Better Than Expected

**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all to do with Twilight. **All belong respectively to their author, Stephenie Meyer. Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, I thank all you lovely readers, and I hope you enjoy part.2 of the quite disastrous dinner at the Cullen's household lol. Hope you enjoy :-) x

* * *

I was feeling more anxious about having dinner than I ever thought possible.

The room was uncomfortably silent; Edward staring down at his plate, not much in the mood for eating after the argument that had brewed over between him and his father. I could tell Esme was just as nervous; she kept glancing back and forth at both her husband and her son, pausing to chew a hangnail every now and then through the silence.

And then at last Mr. Cullen spoke, breaking the bubble of tension.

"You seem like a lovely girl, Isabella." He says as he slices his piece of steak, but I noticed he looked sceptical as he said the comment. "I'm just trying to understand here, why you've chosen to be with Edward." Oh. How was I even meant to answer that? Mr. Cullen continues, "There are another numberless percentage of teenage boys out there, who are far less of a delinquent and as complicated to deal with as Edward. So, please enlighten me - _why_ Edward?"

Suddenly everyone at the table is very still. It seems as if everyone is holding their breath; Esme stops eating, her fork in midair, watching me, waiting patiently for me to answer. At the end of the table, I hear the loud clatter of Edward's silverware dropping onto his plate. I glance over in his direction to see his whole body has stiffened. I can't see his face; he has his elbows resting on the table, his hands against his forehead.

I look down at my fingers, at the silver ring Edward gave me, before slowly answering, "I don't know exactly. All I know is that... I love your son. I love... spending time with him. He's... interesting to me." I quickly fall quiet, feeling my face go as red as a lobster.

Mr. Cullen looks as if he is silently considering this as he puts down his fork and leans his elbows on the table. "There's that word I keep on hearing," he says, glancing across the table at Edward sharply. "_Love_." He pauses for a moment. I can't seem to bring myself to peek over at Edward – to see if I have said the right thing or if I have just put my foot into my mouth – so I stare down at my plate. "I certainly find it very hard to believe that a young girl like you could possibly _know_ what it means... what kinds of commitments are involved with such declarations -"

"-Carlisle, please stop," Esme interrupts gently with a clear note of warning in her tone.

"No, its fine," I persist, "I understand your view, Mr. Cullen. Really, I do. But I don't really see how age has anything to do with it; I believe that at the end of the day, age is only a number. We can only judge by our feelings and..." I look down at the ring again. "That's just how I feel..." I falter, shakily.

There's a long moment of silence in the room. And then I hear Edward's low laughter breaking the unbearable silence. It's not a very kind sound; there's a bitter edge to it, and when I look down at him, he has taken his hands away from his handsome face and is regarding his father with an expression of such immense sadness that it shook me.

"Please _do not_, under any circumstances, undermine my feelings," he demands and then meets my gaze, raising an eyebrow. "Or _Bella's_, for that matter..." he adds curtly. All eyes are on him as he stretches out a trembling hand and raises his glass, taking a loud sip of scotch before continuing louder than is probably necessary, "After all, I believe I do a better job at fulfilling my commitments than you ever have in your entire forty-two years of life, Carlisle!"

His father is gaping at him. There's a loud bustle of noise as his father suddenly gets to his feet, his chair knocking the wall behind him with the sudden movement. "What commitments have I broken for this family?" His voice is rising. "I provided you with a healthy environment and a mother who gives a damn!"

Edward stares down at his glass of alcohol, running a forefinger along the rim, shaking his head and smiling bitterly. "You have a wife who sincerely believes that you would rather spend time working in the hospital than with her..." He is whispering and his father had to crane his neck to hear him properly.

Then Mr. Cullen's face goes dark red at his words. "And where did you hear that, Edward? Did your mother tell you that herself? Because I have seemed to miss the memento!"

"I told her by the way," Edward says offhandedly, as though he is simply telling his father the time on his watch. "I told her how you spend your several nights a month meeting some vile woman named Elizabeth Masen!"

Mr. Cullen opens his mouth to shoot something back and then suddenly falls quiet, pinching his neck in annoyance and exasperation at his son's cutting words. "Edward, you've listened to the music, but you can't seem to hear the words..." He hisses and sighs loudly.

Edward combs a hand through his bronze, tousled hair and looks up at his father defiantly. "And what's that?" he asks resignedly.

"She's your mother, Edward!"

Edward is still, frozen, stunned into silence at his father's brash confession. He stares down at the table, tracing the veneer with his fingers, and then a flicker of understanding slowly comes across his handsome face, his brows furrowed. It was in that moment that I realized Edward didn't know... _he didn't know_! And for some inexplicable reason - I knew before him? Guilt immediately washes over me as though I have been injected with it.

"W-what are you saying, Carlisle?" he asks quietly, looking like a small, rebuked docile little boy in that instance.

"Elizabeth Masen is your biological mother, Edward." Mr. Cullen says it gently, slowly, as to rouse the least bit of anger out of him.

Edward smiles; it's not a very friendly smile. More like a grimace. "You must think your son is pathetically blind and naive to believe that, Carlisle."

"No, Edward. She's your biological mother," Mr. Cullen insists softly. "Your mother and I adopted you when you were three. And Esme, well, she was infertile. We thought it was the right solution." His father pinches the bridge of his nose, and by doing that I realized he almost _did_ look like Edward. "Now, I'm not so sure. Now I'm having my doubts..."

Edward raises his glass and gulps down the rest of the scotch. He says nothing, just licks his lips and then presses his lips together. His face falls as he stares up at his father. "Then... why do you see her every month or so?" he asks, his voice coming out low and quiet.

Mr. Cullen slowly sits back into his seat, his forehead scrunched up in concern. "It was part of the arrangement we settled, Edward," he replies reluctantly. "She gives me regular payments monthly on the request that she be informed of your life and receives photographs..."

Edward shakes his head and covers his eyes with his hands.

"She didn't want to give you up, Edward..." Mr. Cullen frowns. "But she knew she had to; if she wanted you to have a normal, safe life. You should have seen the state of the rooms, Edward! She was confined to a bed with unclean sheets! The paint on the walls were peeling! The carpet was -"

Edward interrupts, "- enough, Carlisle!" He squeezes it out through clenched teeth.

He makes a loud sniffing noise as he moves his hand away from his face and glances up at his father pointedly. He gets to his feet, his hands clenched into tight fists, his expression one of fierce hatred and then without saying another word, he bolts out of the room. I hear the front door opening, the loud trudging of his shoes on the ground, and then the door slams loudly shut.

The room is devastatingly silent. I sit still for a moment, not breathing, not thinking. _Poor Edward_. I had to do something, but what could I possibly do?

And then Mr. Cullen gets to his feet and speaks in a whisper.

"Bella, could you -" he begins gently, his voice trembling, and then abruptly stops. I peek up at him and he looks away, takes a deep breath, and begins again. "Bella, would you please go talk to Edward? I don't believe I can say anymore. I hardly doubt he'd listen long enough for me to get it through to him..." Mr. Cullen's face drains of color as he says the words.

I open my mouth to answer, but then nothing seems to come out. I can only manage a nod, and then it dawns on me that I am afraid; I am afraid of what I will see on Edward's face. I slowly get to my feet, holding the table for support, before turning away from Edward's parents without another word.

As I open the front door, the light chilly breeze leaks in and is immediately comforting and soothing against my skin. To my relief, I discover Edward is sitting on the lower step, his arms around his knees. He glances behind his shoulder, sees me standing there, and then I hear him sigh loudly in annoyance. He hangs his head into his hands.

I take a deep breath as I move to sit beside him on the step. He scoots over a little so that there's enough room for the both of us. Our legs and elbows are touching. "Are you all right?" I ask softly as I put my hand on his arm, stroking his forearm through the fabric of his sleeve gently.

He laughs as he raises his head out from underneath his hands, but it sounds fake. "I'm just peachy," he mutters sarcastically, giving me a dirty look. I breathe slowly out through my nostrils, trying to calm my nerves as I scrutinize his face for a moment through the darkness; his bronze hair sticking out in many directions, eyes rimmed red and face bleak. He runs a hand over his face before exhaling loudly. "I always wondered why she was there," he admits. "For some reason she struck me as so familiar – and now I know why..." He looks at me and I saw him shiver for a moment.

I put my arms around him and feel his body stiffen underneath me. For a moment, I think he is going to push me away, remove himself from me, but then he doesn't. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

"It doesn't matter." He sighs and clears his voice. "What matters now is that I have practically ruined Esme's one chance of a happy existence; I assumed Carlisle was having an affair. I even told her so." He frowns. His eyebrows seem so thick and fierce when he frowns or worries.

I look at him pensively and shake my head. "It wasn't your fault, Edward," I tell him firmly. I rest my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes as the biting breeze smarted against them. "Anybody could have jumped to the wrong conclusion. I bet Esme's happy now that you know!"

"I certainly doubt that," he mutters as I feel his arm move underneath me. He's reaching for something in one of his pockets and I slowly raise my head to find him stuffing a cigarette between his lips, a lighter in his hand, his eyes squinting against the breeze as he makes an attempt to light it.

I'm suddenly furious. "You said you'd quit," I snap at him. It came out of my mouth louder than I expected and, before I could stop myself, I pull the cigarette out from between his lips and throw it against the asphalt briskly.

Edward leans forward and picks the cigarette up from the asphalt without a word - or an apology even, which was what I was expecting – and wound it around his fingers before scrutinizing the stub. There's gravel and dirt on the end, and he finally meets my infuriated gaze, his eyes darkening.

"Look what you did," he says, incredulous, in a poor imitation of a young schoolboy's voice, holding up the dirty cigarette level to my face for my eyes to see. He smirks and then growls at me. "I'm hurt. No, I'm wounded." He leans forward and hops off the step, looming over me in height, his messy hair falling into his eyes as he looks down at me. "Now you better apologize!"

I shake my head, no. "No way," I whisper angrily. "You lied!"

Before I can register what is happening, Edward catches me by my waist and flings me over his shoulder, my stomach lurching as he starts carrying me toward his car; I could never get used to Edward having so much strength that he could carry a one hundred pound girl and make it seem so easy, as though I was as light as a feather. I burst out laughing, I couldn't help it.

He sets me on top of the trunk of his car before leaning over and kissing me quickly.

"What was that for?" I ask, embarrassed, but still laughing at his theatrics.

He shrugs as he sticks the cigarette back between his lips. "Felt like it, love," he mumbles, the cigarette moving against his lips as he said the words. "And by the way, this cigarette is my last one ever, I solemnly swear," he adds honestly as he exhales, smoke curling out between his flawless lips.

I was beginning to realize, with Edward, that things didn't seem to turn out the way I expected them to; what with dinner with his parents, Edward's mood after finding out he was adopted and that the woman he had been so concerned about, was in fact his biological mother and wasn't a threat to his foster parents' marriage at all...

And sometimes, when things don't exactly turn out the way you expect them to, they can turn out just a little better.


	31. Flesh and Blood

**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all to do with Twilight. All belong to their rightful owner in Stephenie Meyer. **  
:-) As promised, a lemon is contained in this chapter. And, as usually, I am nervous as hell when I try to write one! Hope you enjoy this chapter and that it's all right. Thanks so much for your reviews, alerts, and favorites. I really do appreciate it and you all constantly amaze me.

Just to let you know, I probably won't be updating for a few weeks or so. Hope you will stick with me. Just going through a period where my dad was dianosed with lymphomia so it might take me a while. Thanks so much again for your interest in my story. CK X

* * *

Edward has become alarmingly quiet in the passenger seat as we left his parents house after dinner.

The very small amount of alcohol he had seemed to immediately impair his judgement, combined with the medication he was taking, and we had to settle on me driving his Volvo, pushing very low speeds out of fear of crashing. I glance over to find he has his forehead pressed against the cold glass of the window, his eyes tightly shut. "How are you feeling now?" I ask apprehensively when he doesn't seem to make any movement. "You are awfully quiet over there."

"Hmm. Drinking alcohol while on Lithium was an irresponsible choice, love, but I'm all for breaking rules now anyway..." He looks over at me with heavy-lidded, dreamy eyes and smiles at me mischievously.

"So, it's Lithium that you take?"

"Yes."

"How's that meant to work?"

"Um, it reacts not only as an antipsychotic but... stabilizes the mood receptors in the brain, or something of that matter." He waves a hand dismissively in the air.

"Any unpleasant side effects I should be aware of?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Increased thirst, nausea, muscle weakness, confusion..." Edward leans forward in his seat and takes one of my hands off the steering wheel, wrapping his hand around mine. "And let's not forget, the increase of sexual frustration."

I can feel myself blushing. "Nice," I mumble, trying to seem blasé.

I disengage my hand from Edward's, replacing it back onto the steering wheel as I turn a tight corner. "That's some magnificent bone structure right there," I hear Edward say softly and I feel his fingertips brush lightly against my cheek.

"Edward, how much alcohol did you have tonight?"

Edward laughs. "One, two glasses of scotch, love. Why?"

"Never mind." _Because you are acting drunk, Edward..._ "Um, what did you say to your father about last month? I overheard him talking about strippers..."

Edward suddenly looks uncomfortable. He starts unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt clumsily. "I lied, love; I just had to." He shrugs. "I couldn't face the look on Carlisle's face; the disappointment if I had told him the truth. Plus, it was practically the darkest period of my life. The look on your face, after I did what I did so monstrously, was purely enough."

I glance over to find him tugging at the collar of his shirt, loosening it from around his neck, giving me clear access to his chest muscles in the bright lights reflected from the rear vision mirror. I can feel myself hyperventilating at the tantalizing sight, feeling like uncharacteristically jumping him in the car of all places.

"Do you ever think back to it?" I ask quickly, trying to steer my mind and thoughts into another direction.

Edward's face falls at my question. "Half the time I can never remove it from my head. Sometimes it plays over and over like a videotape, whenever I take a look in your direction, love."

I glance over to find Edward has his eyes closed. I take in the miserable demeanour on his face, the way the corners of his mouth pull down unhappily as he rubs his forehead repetitively with his fingers.

After a moment, he continues quietly, "I wasn't even certain what was happening then myself, love. I felt almost as if... I wasn't even present at the time. As though I was the observer watching in on what was happening, what_ I_ was doing to you, through a pair of camera lenses, and not even seeing something remotely pleasant." He pauses and then reopens his eyes. "As though I was watching this corrupted facsimile of myself doing all these horrid, unforgivable things to you..." He is silent for a moment, and then turns his head in my direction. "How did you even learn to forgive me so easily?"

I am quiet for a moment, searching for the answer within myself. "I don't exactly know why," I admit honestly. My hands tighten uncomfortably around the steering wheel. "Something inside of me just told me to... keep holding on, in a way." I shrug. "I don't think it's fair to hold a grudge. Besides would you have preferred I didn't forgive you?"

Edward considers, his brows furrowed. Then he nods slowly. "It would have made it easier."

"But then – I suppose – when you told me last week that you have... Bipolar Disorder, it kind of made sense. I guess I knew, in a way, that you weren't even exactly conscious of what was going on within yourself... when it happened."

"But then you are still so afraid of me, despite how well you think you hide it," Edward observes gently. He puts his hand on my inner thigh. "I wish there was something I could do... a lifetime service of gratitude... an eternity of grovelling at your feet, perhaps." I hear the hint of a smile in his voice. "Although I hardly believe any of that would make up for it..."

I smile at his words; I can't seem to help myself. "No. Just the fact that you've made the conscious decision to seek treatment for yourself is enough for me. Otherwise, I think things would have turned out a little differently..."

"How differently?" he asks, to my absolute surprise. I wasn't prepared for my answer - or for his deep concern and curiosity.

I couldn't bring myself to look over at him, so I looked straight ahead at the ruler-straight highway; my knuckles tighten on the steering wheel convulsively. "I probably wouldn't have been able to deal with this." The words stumble out of my mouth ungracefully in a hushed whisper, but Edward seemed to have heard them clearly enough.

"Of course." I hear the unmistakable tension in his voice, and for a moment I fear that I have offended him deeply in some way or another. I sneak a glance over in his direction to find him not looking at me, his forehead pressed against the glass of the window again. "And I never would expect you to," I thought I heard him say in a low voice, but I wasn't certain if he actually did say it or not.

And I couldn't find enough moisture in my mouth to bring myself to ask.

Did he assume that he was pressuring me into this? Of course, that was the most ridiculous thing to assume if he did; I agreed to this out of my own free will, out of this unbearable need – for _him_ - a need and longing that I didn't even quite understand myself. Maybe the responsible thing would have been to part ways, to say goodbye, but that idea was a thorny one to contemplate.

I knew that being in a relationship with Edward would be difficult – for the both of us – and it was something that I was willing to risk and work hard for.

Because, although I didn't quite understand why, I needed him...

And he unquestionably needed me, too.

* * *

Edward hesitates, lingering by the front door, catching the door frame for support as he stumbles up the steps. I was surprised by how quickly the combination of alcohol and the medication made him lose his balance; it instantly worried me. He handed me the keys and I weaved them into the lock like a sword, opening the front door fully open so that he could stagger in without hitting anything, or harming himself in the process.

"Why don't you stay over?" he suggests quickly as I shut the door behind me. I am startled; it never occurred to me that he would actually want me to stay over, especially in the state that he was. The thought was so delightfully welcoming... But then I remembered Charlie; how he would probably be home sitting by the television, waiting up late for me.

"I don't know, Edward." I sigh. "Charlie will be worried sick if I don't come home. I'm already late enough as it is. I didn't exactly... tell him that I would be having dinner at your parent's house tonight." I am suddenly worried that I have offended Edward, and I peek up at his face; he is standing closer to me than I realized and when I take a step back, not out of fear but out of shock, my back presses flat against the door.

Edward raises one eyebrow and then smirks at me; something races through my body in reaction. "All the more reason to stay, don't you think?" he tells me gently. I can't seem to bring myself to speak – or to disagree for that matter – so I stare at his handsome face stupidly, like some little mute of a girl.

I swallow nervously as he raises a hand and slides the lock on the front door above my shoulder. He seemed to make the decision for me, coaxing me into a pool of sticky wet desire.

"Here, I'll get you something a little more comfortable to wear, love," Edward says softly, beckoning me to follow him with a hand. My body seems to respond before my head does, my feet pushing forward and following him along the hallway in a trance. He enters his room, waiting for me so that he can close the door behind me.

"Are you sure Irina wouldn't mind about this?" I bring myself to ask breathlessly as I enter.

"Well, she certainly shouldn't." Edward reaches over and shuts the bedroom door. "After all, I'm eighteen now; I make my own decisions."

I can't seem to think of anything to say to that. I hesitate, watching Edward as he starts pulling open drawers absentmindedly, searching for something for me to wear. I turn around on the spot, observing his chaotic room. I notice a leather notebook lying open on the table near his acoustic guitar and slowly saunter over to it, curiosity always getting the better of me when it comes to Edward and his things.

I squint down at the page, a black and white ink drawing of a girl with dark hair and stunning features gracing the page. I could never seem to get used to all the talents that Edward possessed; playing guitar _and_ drawing was definitely one of the many numerous skills...

"Who is that girl?" I look over at Edward, who is still riffling through his drawers, searching.

He comes over to stand beside me and looks at the ink drawing. "Um, that's you, love." He smiles, holding out a red flannel shirt to me, but his eyebrows are pulled together so that the smile seems one of worry. "Are you offended?"

I stare at the girl, surprised. Is that really what I look like? "No. Why would I be offended, Edward?"

I go to turn the page, but then he stops me by taking hold of my hand. "I wouldn't bother looking through all of those..." He looks suddenly defensive, closing the sketchbook shut. Why was he so secretive of his sketching all of a sudden?

"Why not?" I smile. "Are they all of me?"

Edward looks away, and then back at me. He quickly looks down at the shirt he is holding out in his hands. "Do you honestly have to ask?" He thrusts the shirt into my hands, and then bows his head, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You're the most significant person in my life, Bella."

I grin. "Well, you draw beautifully." Edward looks unfazed by my compliment. "I didn't know you were not only something of a musician, but an artist, too." He shrugs, staring down at his sneakers.

"Well, I had an extraordinarily beautiful subject to work on," he says blithely, without looking at me. My heart surges with warmth and I suddenly feel as if I am dying to kiss him.

Without another word, he ambles straight over to the bed, kicking off his shoes. I take his momentary lapse of distraction to quickly peel off my shirt and shrug his own one on, the material surprisingly soft and wispy against my skin. I'm halfway finished with doing up the buttons when I peek over to discover Edward is stretched out like a cat, diagonally across the bed, arms behind his head relaxedly, watching me.

Watching me like that, with such high attention, made me feel as though he thought I was the most beautiful creature in the world to him. Was ungracefulness and ineptness beautiful in his books? It certainly would seem so.

Then I remember his mother Esme's words tonight in the kitchen, and find myself dying to ask about it. I review the conversation over in my head, hoping it's one of the things I can safely mention. "Your mother mentioned something to me tonight before dinner that has me curious," I begin slowly, taking my time.

I hesitate, biting my lower lip as Edward stretches out a pair of muscular arms, the bottom of his shirt riding up to his waist, the indentations of his hips and muscles of his stomach showing.

"What, love?" he asks gently.

"She said something about 'after last time', and how she considered setting up an intervention?"

"Ah, yes. That." Edward sighs loudly, rubbing his face with his hands. "Three years ago I went through a... rough period where I wouldn't talk and I wouldn't eat. Of course, naturally, as a mother, Esme's first instinct was to be concerned... but it was an overreaction."

"Oh." I don't know if he'll tell me or not, but it's worth the try. "Did something happen?"

A tendril of bronzed, tousled hair is falling into his eyes and he brushes it back with a hand before answering, "That was the year that Tanya and I went through the quite difficult break-up," he answers almost reluctantly, watching me cautiously. "But then, by some peculiar miracle, I attended gym class and then there you were, flailing your arms around and pasting me one with the volleyball, so to speak..."

I had to suppress a smile and a laugh at his words.

"Anything else you'd like to know while we're on the subject, P.I Swan?" he asks huskily.

"No, I think you've about covered it all," I mumble abashedly, staring down at the ring on my middle finger, smiling widely.

He sits up, leaning his head against the headboard. "Well, then, will you please join me?" he says, patting the empty spot on the bed next to him. "I need to feel some of your warmth..." I didn't know why that surprised me exactly, but I hurried over to the bed, taking off my shoes before joining him, self-consciously stretching out beside him.

There's a bottle of pills on the table beside the bed. I idly wonder if I should mention about them – if they were the Lithium medication pills he was speaking about in the car, but instantly decide against it. In the end, it really wasn't any of my business and I didn't want Edward to feel uncomfortable if I kept raising the subject constantly.

We lie peaceably in silence for a moment, our shoulders pressed together, and then Edward rolls over on top of me, making the bed lurch, his added weight pushing me further down into the soft mattress. "Would you mind?" Edward breathes into my ear, his voice smooth and velvety, as he presses his lips underneath my earlobe.

Was he really giving me an option here?

"No," I gasp, reaching down, unbuckling his belt and fumbling to open the button of his jeans.

My heart is pounding in my ears...

"Are you absolutely sure, love?" He starts kissing my neck, his lips soft and warm, and his breath hot as his voice seems to rumble through his chest, reverberating and vibrating against my chest as he said the words.

"Yes, Edward." I slide the zipper of his jeans down. His warm, moist tongue comes into contact with my flesh. I shiver at the wild sensation.

Unlike before, where everything was so fresh and I felt defensive because it was a new experience for me – a new experience for the _both of us_ – I already knew what to be expecting this time around. But in so many ways, it was different than the other time...

This time it felt more of an act out of desire, not so much desperation, as it was before when I wasn't certain if Edward was leaving me or not. This time, I felt comforted, thrilled that I knew I could wake up tomorrow morning and Edward would still be lying next to me with nowhere else to go.

At last, Edward finds my mouth and kisses me, biting the bottom of my lip gently as one hand strokes my face, the other exploring, sliding up underneath the flannel shirt he gave me to wear. His warm hand caresses my stomach and then this excruciating amount of pain jolts through my mouth and I run my hand across his shirt before pushing him back, disengaging his mouth from mine.

"Bella -" Edward shakes his head, out of breath, confused.

I bring a hand to my lips, and then look down at it. A small amount of blood weeps slowly and it takes me a moment to realize it's from Edward's teeth nibbling on my lip. Edward takes my hand, kissing the palm and sucking off the small smear of blood, his green eyes twinkling.

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to bite that hard." His beautiful face is inches away from mine. "That was incredibly rude." He states it as a fact. There's no hint of an apology in his voice, but at that moment I didn't care.

All that mattered to me was finishing what we started...

I run my hand underneath his shirt, over his stomach, ignoring the twinging coming from my lip.

Edward leans down and I watch, my breathing increasing, as he takes off his socks. We stare at each other.

"Why do you like my blood so much?" I whisper, alarmed.

Edward leans over me, presses his lips firmly against my forehead. "I don't exactly know why, love," he says above me with passion. He pauses as he slides one of his hands underneath my shirt, cupping one of my breasts in his hand, running his thumb over the nipple. "I seem to have this... compulsion. This... desire... to taste you."

"Oh."

"Flesh and blood." Edward starts kissing my neck again a few times. "Becoming one."

I lie back, watching patiently as Edward hops off the bed, stripping off his shirt and jeans and briefs. The sight of him, naked and overwhelmingly beautiful, makes me want to pounce on him. He climbs back onto the bed and I slowly close my eyes, and at first I'm not even aware that he is inside of me, and then I finally feel it; his thighs sliding up against me, his warmth, the friction...

_Oh, yes, Edward!_

And then I hear him say, as gentle as the sound of wind whooshing in your ears: "Man and wife." In-between pants. "Together forever... _or else_."


	32. Make things right

**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all to do with Twilight. All belong to S. Meyer. **Hope you enjoy this chapter. Sorry that it's so short. Hope you will forgive me :) CK X

* * *

My eyes flutter slowly open and I reach out for Edward next to me; the bed is completely empty. I start thinking obsessively, wondering where he has gone off to; has he left once again? Was I once again so foolishly naive to believe he would stay? I'm torn with a million questions inside my head, but then realize I am in his bed at Irina's place where he was staying; if he had disappeared somewhere, he most definitely would have to come back to me sooner or later.

I stretch my arms in the air as last night replays in my head like a videotape, Edward kissing my neck, Edward caressing my stomach, caressing my breasts, and then my hands automatically fly to my mouth, where it feels slightly chapped and sore from Edward's teeth breaking through the skin on my lower lip...

And then it hits me, the words he said, although I was a little too distracted by everything else – the wondrous sensations in my body - to find any valuable meaning in them:

"_Together forever... or else."_

I was certain, almost positive, that it was in reaction to the medication and alcohol Edward had combined. It couldn't have really meant anything foreboding, could it? I trusted that Edward would never let himself get that far out of control ever again.

I glance over at the clock on the table next to his bottle of pills. The illuminated red lights read 9.43 in the morning. "Crap." I yawn and stretch, throwing the covers off of me as I slowly rise to my feet. I search for my jeans and find them on the floor next to my shoes and socks. I'm halfway through pulling them up to my thighs, when I notice Edward's notebook lying open on his side of the bed, intersected between the bed sheets.

I recognize his extravagant handwriting immediately and hesitate before moving over toward it. It's dated for this morning. He must have written it earlier, while I was out like a light, sleeping, exhausted from last night:

_Could it be true that we were all put onto this earth to love? Or is all of that just poetic bullshit anyway... Sometimes I assume that's what she believes, that it's just in her very nature to feel she has to care for everyone. Perhaps the right thing to do would be to take her by the shoulders and tell her I'm not good: I'm too far gone and there isn't a hope in hell of saving me. Yet she still holds on, day after day, mistake after mistake. I don't have the strength to tell her that she should move on, that she should find someone a hell of a lot healthier for her. And yet my life would feel incomplete without her. Perhaps its Gods way of saying: Edward, you are one fucked-up excuse for an organism and you were put here on this earth to make everyone in your life suffer miserably. Like before. I'm sure Carlisle would concur on that. Was I put on this earth to tinge every significant person in my life's heart with despair?_

"What are you doing, love?"

I jump; my heart in my throat as I hear Edward's voice, so husky and full of confusion, and close his leather notebook shut. I turn around to find him watching me, leaning against the doorframe, looking so beautiful that I search laboriously in my head for any kind of coherent thought, one that isn't in regards to his musings.

"Y-you had a shower?" I can only manage to ask stupidly, as he fully enters his bedroom only wearing a white towel around his waist.

"Definitely not, love." He walks past me and leans against the window, one of his hands wrapped around a carton of milk. He smiles crookedly. "I fell in."

I cross my arms, and laugh. "Oh, really. You fell in, huh?"

I take in his hair that is dark with water, still dripping wet, small drops falling and trailing down his broad shoulders. His hair is in a more chaotic state than usual, as though he just rubbed the towel against his scalp and didn't bother combing and yet, it was oddly pleasing to the eyes.

He feigns a shudder. "It was_ very_ traumatic." He unscrews the cap on the milk.

"I'm sure it was."

I glance over at the clock near his bed out of habit. I start to dismally wonder if Charlie is already awake and waiting for me. He would probably call Rose and Alice – assuming I was with one of them – and demand to speak to me. But my concerns immediately diminished when I looked back at Edward, who is still leaning against the window, staring outside, holding the carton of milk level to his lips. My eyes roam down to his chest, his stomach, and those hip indentations. _Delicious_, I admit to myself, blushing.

"Do you have any plans today?" I ask, hoping this was okay for me to do so. He shouldn't mind me asking, right? It seemed like the thing a _girlfriend_ would ask...

Edward moves over to the bed and leans over, picking up his pill bottle. "I was actually thinking of visiting my mother today, love." He screws open the cap and shakes two pills into his palm.

"Would you like some company?" I ask as Edward pops the pills into his mouth and easily swallows them without any liquid, or milk.

He sighs. "I don't think so, love." He sits perched on the end of the bed for a moment and closes his eyes, rubbing them with his fingers. "I think it's better if I do this alone. I'm quite anxious about the whole ordeal, actually..." He gets up again, pacing restlessly, then resolves to stand by the window, peering out.

"When you visit your mother, what will you say to her?" I ask curiously.

"I'd ask her... why she didn't want me." He frowns and looks outside the window, contemplating. "I'd ask her if she knew... that I was this way. But, most of all, I'd want her to know that I hardly blame her. That I forgive her, either way." He meets my gaze as he leans back against the window ledge on his elbows. "I'd tell her about you, about the possibility of me having a future..." He looks uncomfortable as he drinks some of the milk directly from the carton before offering it to me. I decline.

I lean against the wall, intrigued. "What does she look like?" I ask. I was eager for information on Edward, any information that he would drop. Although I found it depressing, mainly because I knew how much it bothered him, it also fascinated me.

Edward looks both sad and happy, as he answers, "At first when I saw her, she looked like a very superficial creature to me. I felt hostile toward her because I assumed Carlisle was, well, you know..." He is silent for a moment, staring out the window past the trees. "But now I realize it was idiotic of me to even jump to that conclusion. She has the same colour hair as mine, and a stubborn way about her by the way she held her head..." As he reveals this, it becomes obvious how much he has been studying her while he was watching in on her monthly meetings with his father Carlisle without their knowledge.

Something suddenly has left me feeling irritated, something he said that I didn't agree with. I rehearse the conversation in my head, and remember just as quickly; it resonated through the writings in his notebook. "Why did you say that – just before? I mean, don't you believe that there is a future for you?"

Edward plunks the milk carton down onto the windowsill and stares down at the carpet. "I'd like to think there could be a future for me, but I'd like to keep the options open - for _yo_u - always, love." His voice shakes, his expression grim. "I wouldn't wish this on anyone, especially not on someone I adore so much. The complications are endless, when you really think about it..."

"But you're getting help for this. We'll take it a day at a time."

He looks at me as though I'm insane, his green eyes fierce. "But I'm very... unpredictable while I'm like this, Bella."

I shrug. "So is everybody."

He makes a face and then rubs a hand across his unshaven chin. "I don't believe you understand the gravity of what you're saying here, Bella."

I sigh. "I don't care, Edward. I mean, I _do_ care – but you're... good."

Edward raises one eyebrow, looking incredulous. "Love, your inability to perceive all of my perilous flaws is baffling!" He shakes his head. "I should be incarcerated and you should be my punisher, whipping and chaining me until your heart's content!"

I smile ruefully at the wicked imagery that comes along with his words. Then immediately feel guilty for doing so. It was in bad taste. I bite my lower lip as we lapse into an uncomfortable moment of silence, forgetting that it's still sore. "Do you remember anything from last night?" I ask hesitantly.

Edward looks worried, his brows furrowed confusedly. "Uhm. A few things are quite a distant blur..."

"Well, then. You have to promise me something," I demand, trying to brighten the tone of my voice.

He hesitates. "_What_?"

Edward raises a hand, brushing his thumb against my tender lip softly.

"Don't drink alcohol _ever_ again."

"Hmm." He takes my hand, drawing me in closer. He considers, leaning over to me. "Somebody like you can really make things all right for me, love," he says softly, in my ear.

And I wished for a moment there that that really could be true.


	33. Silence

**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all to do with Twilight. All belong to S. Meyers. Hope you like this chapter and thank you all so much for your lovely reviews. I really do appreciate them. :) Hope this chap. isn't a dissapointment.** x

* * *

As I got home and before I had even walked through the door, Charlie was at my throat. He demanded to know where I was, where I had been, and more importantly that I apologize for worrying him. I was eager to get up to my room so I raced straight up the stairs, throwing my backpack onto my bed without so much as a heartfelt apology.

An hour later, I hear footsteps moving around outside my bedroom door. And then the doorknob jiggles back and forth. "Bella?" my dad says. He sounds worried still. "Are you still in there?"

"Yeah, dad. I am." I get up and open the door. Charlie stares at me, his mouth wide open.

"Well, _where_ have you been, Bells?" he asks quietly. "I've been worried sick. I called your friends - they said you weren't with them." His forehead is scrunched up comically in both confusion and concern.

"Yeah, I wasn't with them. I was with another friend, dad. Sorry I forgot to call – I stayed for dinner last night..."

He enters my room, and looks around as though expecting somebody to jump out from in my closet or something. "Who?" he asks, "Which friend, Bells?" I could tell he had been drinking earlier; his breath smells highly alcoholic.

I shrug. "Just a good friend, dad."

"Yeah, well, I don't appreciate you disappearing for a day and then not telling me who you're with," he tells me sternly.

"Dad, it's really none of your business!" My voice is rising.

"The hell it_ is_, Bella!"

I move over toward the door, Charlie stumbling backwards. "I'm almost eighteen now, dad. I can do whatever I -"

"No, you can't!" His voice is very loud. I watch in apprehension as his face turns bright red. "While you are living underneath my roof, Bella, you will tell me who you are with at _all_ times!"

I was afraid to tell my father who I was with for some reason. After our conversation a few weeks ago about Edward after dinner, it was obvious Charlie didn't like Edward one bit. If I had told him the truth, he would have been angry; I was absolutely certain of that fact.

He stands, looking at me, his head tilted to the side in wonder and contempt. I scrutinize his face to see the lines underneath his eyes. Has he even been sleeping? "What are you wearing, Bella?" he asks loudly, looking at my shirt.

I look down at what I am wearing, stunned; Edward's flannel shirt. I must have forgotten to take it off.

"Is that a _boy's_ shirt?" he asks in a low, hoarse whisper.

"No, dad. It isn't." I try to sound confident with my lie, but he sees straight through it.

"You were with a _boy_, Bella. Tell me who he is," he commands.

"There is no boy, dad. You're being ridiculous." _It's none of your business anyway_, I think of retorting again, but don't.

"Bella!" He shouts through clenched teeth. He takes a step forward. I spot the gun in his holster. "You will _tell me_ this instance!" I can't tell him. This will hurt him.

I begin to turn away from him and start putting the things on my bed away but he shoots out a hand and grabs me.

"Dad, I think you've had a little too much to drink -" The words stumble out as he wrenches my arm toward him, and then he slaps me, hard. I pull back and fall to my knees at the unexpected blow. My mouth opened in numb shock. I desperately wanted to vomit. I look up at Charlie and there's a flash of deep regret in his eyes, and then he stalks out, leaving me feeling more alone than I ever thought humanly possible.

I feel sick inside, wrapping my arms around my knees. The stinging and pain on my cheek instantly recedes. But what is now left of the pain is this empty shell inside of me. Why did he_ do_ that? By every pitiful lie I make, to protect myself – to protect_ him_ - I seem to push him away, my father, the only person who seemed to care the most about me... almost as much as _him_.

* * *

"Bella, now will you wait just a minute!"

I burst out crying; I can't seem to help it.

"Honey, it was just a spur of the moment thing..." Charlie's voice is getting faster and faster by the minute, as he tries to urgently explain, following right behind me as I run to my truck. "I didn't mean it. Hell, I know it shouldn't have happened. You _know_ I love you more than anything in the whole damn world, Bells!"

I can't seem to look Charlie in the eyes. "Dad, please don't." My voice is trembling. "I... I need to be away for a while!"

"Bella – wait -"

I hop into my truck and slam the door shut. I try to drive out of there as fast as I possibly can, pushing high speeds. I wanted to forget what just happened. I wanted to forget it all. I know Charlie didn't mean to do it. Perhaps it _was_ my fault? There was no doubting it was my fault. Because of me... I had pushed Charlie over the edge with all of these lies and secrecies. But I could never tell him _who_ I was with. I was just certain it would make everything worse.

As I reach the highway, I realize I have nowhere to go. Where can I go? An answer of all sorts immediately comes into my head: _where Edward is_.

* * *

Was being with Edward both a blessing and a curse? I wondered as I reached Irina's house. I immediately feel wretched. With every moment that was passing me by, it seemed I was hurting _everyone_. Could I ever be happy with the choice I had made?

I glance at my face in the mirror quickly. My eyes are swollen, red and puffy from crying so much. I look like a horrible mess. The side of my cheek where Charlie struck me is tinged red; I hoped it would calm down very soon. And then this wave of fear hit me: what will Edward think when he sees me like this? Would he demand to know what happened? I couldn't stomach the idea of going through the details...

I suddenly feel sick inside as I hop out of my truck and walk to the front of the house in a trance. My hands won't seem to stop shaking.

_Calm down, _I chanted in my head once, twice, three times as I rested on the doorframe, trying to gain control over my nerves. I sink down to the step and start crying again. How long could this possibly go on for? And then I heard it, through my gasps and sobs, a loud clatter coming from inside the house. The sound of something breaking.

I reach for the doorknob and try to open it. It's unlocked. The door creaks slowly open.

"Edward?" I call, my voice shaking.

Silence.

"Edward?" I call again, a little louder this time. I close the door carefully behind me.

Silence. There's nothing but the sound of ringing in my ears.

Where can he be? If the door is unlocked, wouldn't Edward be home?

I walk slowly down the hallway, and then I see him.

Edward is lying, fully clothed, his body in a strange rigid pose, on the carpet. I don't hear any sounds – any breathing – coming from him.

_No, please no!_

"Edward?" I kneel down beside him and touch his forehead. He feels as if he is experiencing some kind of fever. "Edward, please talk to me!"

Silence.

His bottle of Lithium medication is lying between his feet, pills scattered and intersected everywhere.

_What do I do?_ I chant it over and over in my head. _What the _hell_ am I meant to do?_

He makes a low sound, a despairing groan tearing through clenched teeth, and it was then that I knew he was alive. A wave of relief and anger pulsates through me. Why did he do this to himself?

_911! I need to call a doctor!_

I find his phone and press redial. After a few rings, a man on the other line speaks: "Edward, you _know_ this is an inappropriate time to call me! I'm working -"

"Mr. Cullen?"

"Yes. This isn't Edward. Who is this?"

"It's Bella. Bella Swan. Listen, your son is lying here on the floor. I... I don't think he is quite conscious, but his pills are everywhere and I'm afraid he might have overdosed!"

There's a moment of silence on the other line where Mr. Cullen pants loudly into the receiver. "_What_ pills are you talking about, Bella?" He sounds genuinely confused. Did he not know? Did Edward not tell him?

"Edward is taking Lithium medication." Another low groan comes from Edward. "_Please,_ Mr. Cullen! I _don't know_ what to do! Should I call for an ambulance?"

"Yes! Please! Call them immediately and I'll meet you there at the emergency ward!" He hangs up.

_Please Edward. Don't leave me now! Oh God, I need you... and I love you._


	34. Reattaching the Broken Threads of Life

**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all to do with Twilight. All belong to S. Meyer. Thank you so much for your reviews. I just couldn't leave you hanging on for too long. Hope you enjoy this chapter. I really appreciate the reviews, story alerts, favorites, etc. :-) It always makes my day. x I will be updating in a week or so :-) Thanks for sticking with me :)**

* * *

It's bizarre how a traumatic event can reconnect the broken threads of life back together.

In the emergency waiting room, there are mothers with feverish young children being tended to by doctors in white coats, teenagers my age getting treated for wounds, who will brag about it to their friends later on in the evening.

And then there's Carlisle and Esme, Edward's foster parents, enclosed in their own little tense bubble in the furthest corner of the room. Esme's shoulders are shaking in fear and worry over her son, while her estranged – or so it would seem - husband has his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, trying his very best to placate her.

I wonder idly what Edward would think if he saw the intimate sight between the pair, and how he had brought them both back together. Would he be exultant and rejoice? Would he realize how much his father did in fact love his mother despite it all? Would he realize that, despite his doubts, his father did love _him _as though he was one of his own?

"What is happening, Carlisle?" I hear her ask in a hushed and desperate whisper. "Why did he do this to himself? How?" Those were the very questions I wanted answered myself.

There's a fleeting moment of silence where Mr. Cullen rubs the small of her back. "They say it was accidental," he tells her. "That he misjudged the dosage of his pills. There's a very high chance that he will be -"

Esme interrupts. "Why is he taking pills, Carlisle?" She takes firm hold on the collar of his doctor's coat and shakes him, pleading. "He's not insane. He doesn't need to take anything!"

He shushes her. "But that's the thing, sweetheart," Carlisle replies gently. "According to his records, he has been recently diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. I don't quite think he was ready to tell us that by his own accord..."

A nurse comes out with her notepad. Mr. and Mrs. Cullen look at her expectantly, but when she calls out someone else's name, they quickly resume with the hushed conversations. An elderly woman and her husband amble over toward the nurse, and then they disappear with her quickly out of sight.

"Is he going to be all right?" Esme cries, burying her face into the collar of his coat.

Mr. Cullen strokes her hair, pulling her body more tightly against his. "They're trying to do the best they possibly can. The only thing we can do is to sit and wait patiently. It will make their job much easier..." And then he looks into my direction. He gives me a faint, strained smile before leading his wife over to me. She clings onto him, shuddering as she cries.

"How are you doing, Bella?" Mr. Cullen asks amiably, looking down at me.

I can't seem to say anything. _How am I feeling, Mr. Cullen? _I think._ Many things. Broken... hurt... scared... anxious. But of course, that's nothing in comparison to how much you must be feeling right now, considering Edward is your son._

"Bella?" Esme says it as softly as a whisper. She raises her face out from her husband's coat and looks down at me, her face blotchy and red, tears leaking from her eyes. "I didn't realize you were here, sweetheart." She looks abashed, her lips quivering.

"Yes, if it wasn't for Bella here, Edward mightn't have arrived here in time," Carlisle tells her, looking apologetic. He glances down at me quickly, his brows furrowed. "We spoke to a nurse earlier. She said you were right – a toxic Lithium overdose. They're operating on him right now. The procedure is usually very quick, given the severity..." His voice trembles.

"Procedure?" I manage to ask, my voice coming out in a high-pitched squeak.

"Yes." He glances down at Esme's stricken face quickly, as though deciding whether or not to tell me what it meant, and what they would be doing to him. "They're pumping out his stomach. Judging by the time you found him, and the time it took for him to arrive here, they're betting that he only ingested the pills an hour or less ago."

_Oh, God. _My head swims at his words. _It'll be fine_, I kept telling myself, for my sake as well as his parents. So, right now, the doctors and nurses were trying and trying, pumping his stomach. He wasn't dead, and he had a chance of survival - _that_ hope I was clinging onto in an iron grasp...

A nurse appears, scanning the room. "Cullen?" she calls, and Esme cries despairingly. They both rush over to her. "It's fine for you to see your son right now." She says it with a small smile. "But I encourage you both to keep the noise level to a minimum; he's still sleeping. We gave him a mild sedative, which should keep him dozing comfortably for an hour or two..."

"So, he's going to be all right?" Esme asks her urgently.

"I believe your son is going to be fine," she assures her warmly. Esme sighs loudly in relief and then breaks down crying again.

_Thank you, God,_ is all I can seem to think.

Esme rushes silently to follow the nurse to his room. Carlisle glances behind his shoulder at me. "Bella," he says meaningfully. He smiles, a less forced smile this time around. "Why don't you come join us? You're as much as a family to Edward as we are."

"Okay." I stand slowly and follow him. In that instance, I felt scared. So scared, as we walked along the bright, white corridor. I was afraid to see what Edward looked like. I was afraid that he was in pain. And, most all, I was afraid of keeping my hopes up. If something happened... if something happened that caused Edward's heart to give-out right there... I think I would have died.

I hesitate as we reach the doorway to one of the private rooms. The nurse is standing outside, offering Esme some privacy to be with her son. Mr. Cullen pauses to let me go in first, and I suddenly felt like I wanted to cry as I entered the room. Esme was hovering over the bed, with one hand stroking her son's bronzed, tousled hair affectionately as he was dozing.

I expel a shaky breath as I look at Edward's handsome face. He is sleeping beautifully, serenely, his lips slightly parted as his breathing comes out in long, even inhales and exhales. Oh, Edward. _Why did you do this to yourself? How could you?_

Esme meets my gaze and moves away from her son, dabbing at her swollen eyelids with the end of her wrists. And then she turned back to Carlisle, who is lingering closely by the doorway, his hands in his pockets, expression pensive, and wraps her arms around him. I hear her laugh. Or cry again. I wasn't sure which.

There is a seat directly next to his bed. I sit carefully, observing him closely as he sleeps. The room is comfortably warm, from the heater. My heart surges as I notice how warm and comfortable he must be, with the white blankets curled around his waist. And _safe_. At least he would be safe in this room, where he could sleep serenely and not have a care in the world about anything.

And he was alive. He was alive and recovering!

And that was enough for me...

* * *

I didn't know how long time passed.

But I curled up in the chair, my arms draped around my knees as I watched him in the calm, soothing silence that was surrounding us.

In the crook of his elbow, I notice with distaste, there is a red puncture wound, no doubt from the sedative the nurse had slipped into him to help make him sleep more restfully. I hear Carlisle and Esme in the background, talking amongst themselves in hushed, inaudible whispers. Occasionally Mr. Cullen flitted back and forth out of the room, bringing hot, steaming rich coffee and snacks for Esme from the vending machines.

He asked me twice if I wanted anything, and I had to decline him both times. I was too nervous, on edge, to even consider eating anything right now. I still couldn't seem to wrap my head around everything. Not just with Edward overdosing, but with Charlie today, too.

Sometimes I would forget about the tenderness of my cheek and would rest it against the top of my knees and then, just as suddenly, I would remember _why _it hurt so much. But that hurt was incomparable to what would have happened if I hadn't found Edward in time... if things had been different... if I had taken a different route... I shudder at the wretched images that come along with it.

Edward's hands are lying above the blankets and I reach out, taking one of them, feeling how warm and dry it is against my skin, and how the pulse on his wrist beats, always to the same rhythm. It made me realize then just how fragile my time with Edward was. Even if he didn't do this intentionally – as Carlisle said to Esme – I would have to make sure my moments with him were genuine, and special.

After a while, Esme came over to me, placing her chin against my shoulder as she whispers, "Sweetheart, Carlisle is just going to drop me off home. We will be here again tomorrow morning first thing. You're quite welcome to have a lift home now so you can catch up on some sleep, and then we can take you here with us in the morning?"

It didn't take me long to think about it. "No," I say, firmly. "Thank you, but I'd like to... stay here with Edward until he wakes. I hope you won't mind." I was certain I could never return back home, mainly due to my situation with Charlie right now...

She smiles and shakes her head, patting my hair. "Oh, no. That's fine, darling. That's no trouble at all." I watch as she moves over to the other side of the bed and she leans down, pressing her lips to Edward's forehead. "We will see you tomorrow, sweetheart," she breathes gently against his skin and then moves away, as Carlisle squeezes past her through the narrow space.

He stares down at his sons face in silence, a look of unconditional despair on his face. "I'm sorry, Edward," he says quietly, disappointedly. "Sleep well, son. We'll see you tomorrow morning." He sniffs loudly, almost on the verge of tears and the gentle moment shared between Carlisle and his unconscious son is so overwhelmingly tragic that I find it hard to breathe. "I love you, my boy." He clasps Edward's shoulder, and then gives me a pointed glance before walking out, Esme trailing slowly behind him. I stare after them for a long moment, stunned.

How could Edward ever have doubted Carlisle's love for him? The very idea was baffling to me. But then, perhaps the gesture was easier for Carlisle, when his son was too deep into his sleeping to perceive any sound or heartfelt confession.

I catch a movement, out of the corner of my eye, and look down at Edward's face quickly. He turns his head and I hear him say something. At least, he was _trying_ to say something. It almost sounded like my name.

"Please be okay, Edward," I tell him quietly as I stroke his face with my fingertips, feeling the prickle of the stubble on his chin, and along his jaw. I tentatively lean off the chair and closer to his face, and gently whisper in his ear, "You know, you should have seen your parents tonight." I sigh. "You would have been so happy if you saw the sight, how they are both reconnecting," I whisper into his neck, "and it was all because of _you_!"

When it's pitifully obvious Edward isn't going to respond, I sit back into the chair, waiting. He turns his face toward me and then his eyes open ever so slightly. I hold my breath in anticipation. _Yes! Yes!_

And then his eyes flutter shut again.

And then he sighs, a long ragged, resigned breathe, until there's nothing there anymore.

No breathing. No nothing.

_No. Please no! No!_

I scramble to my feet, tumbling, and press the red emergency button. Then, barely a minute later, a doctor and nurse comes bustling in.

"I...I don't think he is breathing!" I yell in a panic. _This cannot be happening._ "P-p-please," I seem to stumble through my words, "you... you've got to help him!"

The nurses rushes over to Edward and presses her fingertips against his neck, checking for a pulse. "He's not breathing, doctor," she tells him calmly from over her shoulder. Why was she being so calm about this? He could... _die_ for Christ's sake!

Then she rushes out of the room. I stare at Edward's beautiful face, at his motionless body. I feel like I want to scream.

Then the nurse comes back into the room, holding a large plastic rod of an implement. She passes it to the doctor and then proceeds to open Edward's mouth wide-open. The doctor then pushes the plastic tubing down Edward's throat.

He can't die on me... not _now_! Not when I knew and hoped that things would be better for him, for his parents. I start weeping, my body shaking.

_Please, don't let him die._

_Please, don't let him die._

_Please don't._

And then somebody coughs and splutters loudly. It's a very masculine sound.

Edward!


	35. Life Is Good

**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all to do with Twilight. All belong to their rightful owner, S. Meyers.**

Thank you so much for your reviews, I really appreciate them always. Thank you so much for the encouraging words, it makes me even more willing and eager to update on the story and try my best at writing it. A special thank you to **Rpatz-Wifey** for the really sweet review lol. Really hope you all enjoy this chapter and that it's not a disappointment! Possible hints to what the future life will be for Edward and Bella, so hope you enjoy! Thanks again. xx :-)

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It's morning now. One of the nurses comes in silently and opens the blinds and the white, dim morning light leaks into the room and covers Edward's face. She smiles at me, in a sympathetic way, I thought, as she moves around him, checking his pulse and slipping a tube drip with white, clear liquid in it, into the crook of his forearm, and then she leaves as quickly as she came, her shoes clacking loudly down the hallway.

His face is slightly damp with sweat, tendrils of his bronze tousled hair dark and damp, sticking to his forehead as he sleeps. His cheeks are flushed pink, his lips chapped, and I could tell he could probably do with a long glass of water. But then, while observing him and the big tube in his arm, I realized the drip was just doing that, providing him some water to keep him hydrated. I sigh in relief and sit back in the chair, not daring to drag my eyes away from him.

Perhaps I was being a little paranoid, but after late last night, when his heart gave out and the doctors and nurses had to come rushing in and use that intubation tube, shoving it deep down into his throat to clear way for oxygen, I was afraid to leave him alone. Even for one measly minute.

Esme arrives a moment later, entering the room with two containers of chocolate pudding from the hospital cafeteria. "Oh, Bella, you poor girl," she says as she sees me sitting there. "You look dead on your toes. Aren't you hungry? Do you need anything?" She looks worried.

"No, thank you, I'm fine," I assure her. I stand up slowly, my back and knees making crackling noises as I do, and then realize I urgently need to use the bathroom. "Actually, I need to use the restrooms. Would you mind staying here until I come back?"

"Of course not, sweetheart." She sets her containers of pudding into her handbag and then takes over my position, sitting on the seat directly next to Edward's bed. She reaches out a hand and brushes her fingers against his forearm. She has a delicate touch. Like before, Edward still doesn't respond.

Halfway down the hallway, it was then that I realized my whole body was stiff and aching from sitting in a rigid position on the chair for so long. But it was nothing compared to how Edward must have been feeling. I push through the door of the restroom and quickly go, pulling my underwear down to my knees as I sit.

I was due for my period at this time of the month, and it still hadn't arrived yet. It didn't worry me too much. My mind was elsewhere; I assumed it was the stress, of not knowing for certain if Edward would recover that was making me irregular. But, in a bizarre way, I was starting to miss the uncomfortable, unpleasant sticky sensations of blood between my legs.

Edward and I hadn't used protection. _Twice_.

I curse myself for being so foolish and irresponsible, but I never once thought that becoming pregnant was something that would ever happen to me. At least not right now, when I was so young and making love was... fresh to me. To _us_.

Edward had said, in his letter, that he had envisioned us with a little girl in the future. It was hard for me to imagine. Hard to grasp motherhood. My body didn't feel ready for the changes that motherhood would bring. Nor did I feel that I would have enough life experience or anything to teach a child, right now.

It was hard to think of one thing, when my mind was flittering off into many different directions. There were still so many things left unanswered, like did Edward do this to himself purposely? No, he couldn't have. After all, I overheard Mr. Cullen telling his wife that it was accidental. What would the reasons be behind why Edward would do such a thing to himself, overdosing on his medication? But since I felt as though I knew Edward well now, after these past few months, I trusted that he would never do anything like this on purpose.

He wouldn't leave his family – or me – like that. Not in this way.

After I'm done, I rinse my hands and rush back down the hallway to Edward's room. I realized Esme was sitting out in the emergency waiting room now. How could she leave her son alone like this? I thought in a panic. Once I reached his room, I overheard voices.

Carlisle was speaking to his son now. _And Edward was awake_!

"Why would you take sure a careless risk?" I hear Carlisle hiss in Edward's private room. I assumed then that Edward was awake. "Even if you_ are_ suffering from this... disorder, you mustn't risk your life like this ever again!"

There's a moment of silence. And then finally, Edward speaks, my heart racing at the sound of it: "I know, Carlisle." His voice sounded sore and came out rasping from disuse.

"Need I remind you how much Esme worried?" Mr. Cullen continues, his voice rising. "Not to mention Bella, the poor girl. She's the one that found you like this."

"_Bella_?" Edward sounds surprised.

"Yes, and if it wasn't for her, quite frankly, you'd be dead." Mr. Cullen's voice trembles as he says it.

Edward sighs loudly. "It was never my intention to cause Esme to worry, Carlisle, believe me," he assures him softly. "I just wanted to make it go away..."

"Make _what_ go away, son?"

"_Everything_."

"You called me that morning before I started my shift at work and left me a message. Did you visit her?" Carlisle must be talking about Edward's biological mother now. _Oh!_ I had forgotten that he said he would be visiting her that morning. Was that the very reason why he overdosed?

"Only very briefly," Edward admits quietly. "Only I never thought... I never assumed... that she would be like me in exactly so many ways. Could it be possible, Carlisle?"

I wasn't sure what Edward was asking of his father, but then Mr. Cullen says: "It _was_ mainly the reason why we had to pull you out of her care. I suppose it was Anthony's death that triggered it."

"My real father?" Edward asks, curiously.

"Yes."

"I don't quite remember him." Edward's voice is thoughtful, pensive.

"Well, you were a very young boy – barely two – when it happened. No one hardly would expect you to." So, Edward's real father's name was Anthony? And he had died when Edward was just a very young boy of age two? I feel guilty, as though I was committing some wretched sort of crime by listening in on their conversations, but my curiosity kept me there, lingering by the doorway and out of sight, eager for more. "So, when do you leave?" Mr. Cullen asks in a much brighter tone to his son.

"The doctors and nurses say it's perfectly fine for me to be discharged today, so long as Irina monitors the dosage of my medication."

"I believe Irina doing that would be best," Mr. Cullen agrees brusquely.

"They're treating it as though it was a suicide attempt, Carlisle," he tells his father urgently. "I _wasn't_ trying to end my life. I was only trying to make it better. I need for you to understand that very clearly." He says it very slowly and emphatically, as though trying to get his point across.

"Your mother knows you wouldn't dare to try end your life, especially when you're so young." I hear Mr. Cullen sigh loudly, and then he continues, "But you need to clear this up with Bella, Edward. She stayed here at the hospital overnight. She wouldn't even let you out of her sight – not until now. She cares about you; I know that now, although I didn't quite believe it at first..."

"Bella has been very understanding, even more so than I deserve." My cheeks burn at the passion in Edward's voice.

"Yes," Mr. Cullen agrees, "You have the right girl this time around. I'm very glad. It's quite a nice difference for you, being hung-up over a girl who seems to actually care for you as much as you do her."

"I'm very thankful."

"Make sure you return the favour from time to time, son," Mr. Cullen says softly, with a clear note of warning in his tone. "Never let her feel as though you are taking her for granted. Your life was in her hands."

There's silence, and then Edward laughs, a low throaty sound. It seems to break the tension radiating from inside the room between the pair. "Who would have thought I would ever be taking relationship advice from the very person I used to so wrongly despise so much?"

Carlisle laughs, too. "Yes. It's quite unbelievable, isn't it?" There's a hint of a smile in his voice.

I realized that when Mr. Cullen and Edward were being good-natured and friendly, that they had quite a lot to say to each other. But then, perhaps Mr. Cullen too realized that the threads of life could be cut short at anytime and that he would have to make the most of every moment he spent with his adopted son.

After a moment has passed, Carlisle goes to exit the room, and then sees me standing there, eavesdropping. He has his hands in his pockets, and his smile widens as he spots me, his eyes twinkling. "Ah, Edward. It seems you have a visitor," he tells his son meaningfully. I hesitate before slowly entering the room. Mr. Cullen clears his throat as he looks back and forth between Edward and me. "I'll leave you two to it." I realized I quite liked Mr. Cullen more when he was being like this. He pauses, and then swivels around to face us both, looking suddenly abashed. "Oh, and Esme will be coming back in here in less than a few minutes. I'll stall her by joining her for a cup of coffee." And then he winks at me before strolling down the hallway and out of sight.

Edward isn't in his bed anymore. All that's left there is a messy bundle of white sheets.

I find him standing over by the small window, the blinds drawn, resting his forehead against the glass. "It seems that I owe you an apology and an explanation." His eyes are heavy-lidded as he tilts his face over at me. I could tell the effects from the sedative the nurse had given him last night still hadn't quite waned. "Although, I don't quite know where to begin, love."

"Take your time," I tell him gently. I move and stand next to him, leaning against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest for warmth, and comfort. "I'll still be here."

He rubs his chin, at the stubble that had accumulated there, deep in thought. "I visited my biological mother yesterday morning, like I told you before you left, love," he tells quietly, his expression sad. "She's exactly like me..." He expels a breath, shaking his head. "She has the exact same... disease as I do. It's passed through genetics, perhaps." He raises a shoulder and then shrugs.

"She has Bipolar, too?" I ask. I try to control my surprise as much as I could.

He doesn't say anything, just nods and presses his lips tightly together. He takes hold of the thin rod on the drip machine and slides it in closer, so he has enough room to lessen the distance between us. There was something miserably angel-like about Edward, something benign looking, about him in his startlingly bright, white hospital clothes.

I study his face carefully as he raises the arm hooked to the machine and runs his fingers through his bronzed, tousled hair shakily, brushing his fringe back away from his eyes. I note how tired he looks, the faint purple lines raking underneath his eyes, despite dozing for over twenty four hours last night.

"How did you... overdose?" I ask apprehensively, trying to keep my voice as controlled as possible. Even speaking the words, it felt as if something deep and heavy was wedged in my throat, weighing me down, leaving me on the brink of tears and almost retching.

His expression is like a sigh. "I don't quite know how. One minute, I suppose I assumed the pills weren't working. I couldn't remember if I had already taken my full dose that morning... and it turned out I had."

He looks apologetic, his brows furrowed, and it was then that I knew it wasn't intentional, just like Mr. Cullen had said in an attempt to reassure Esme.

"And then, Carlisle recalled how you found me," Edward continues, and he smiles, that crooked radiantly beautiful smile, looking both a little guilty and thankful at the same time. "I think this just proves how much so that we are destined to be together, love." He strokes my hair with a hand and I found that I had very much missed his touch.

I smile widely at his words. "I suppose you could take it as a sign of that," I agree lightly, shrugging.

He starts to laugh. "Like I said." He looks absurdly pleased with himself, smiling wryly and shaking his head. "Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I knew that we were intended to be with each other, even if you were so blind that you couldn't even see it yourself." He looks at me as though I'm crazy and adds, in a much brighter tone, "But now, it seems, I've at last made you see clearly..." He states this as though it's a fact, as though I had nothing to do with it at all.

"That's not quite true," I disagree, and he stares down at my face, confused. "If it wasn't for me, holding on like the way I did when you were taking me to Vegas, it probably wouldn't have turned out this way..."

He winces at the memory. "Perhaps, you're right," he agrees sceptically, looking up at the ceiling of the hospital room. "But do you ever think, just for one second, what it would be like... being with someone normal?" He asks it in a casual tone, but I could tell by his expression how much it bothered him.

"You _are_ normal..."

He scoffs at my unfussy use of the word. "Normal? Is this what it's like to be normal, love?" he asks, waving a hand at himself and the room around us. I stare at his handsome face, not quite understanding and he sighs loudly. "A _normal_ person wouldn't have kidnapped you in the middle of the night out of some bizarre, delirious notion of getting married, which was, I understand now, against your wish..."

I can't seem to find my voice.

"A _normal_ person," he continues in a low, sarcastic voice, his face inches away from mine, "would _never _forget his dosage of medication and overdose like this." His voice gets faster and faster by the minute, as he raises a hand and covers his eyes. "A _normal_ person wouldn't keep endangering neither the lives of those he cares about, nor his own life and subsequently cause those around him to suffer -"

"_Stop_," I hiss loudly and take hold of his hands, pulling them down away from his face. He falls abruptly silent. "You have to stop talking about yourself like that! You're a good person... even if you don't see it clearly yourself."

"I'm not good, no." He says it softly, always disagreeing whenever it comes to himself. I sigh and open my mouth to speak, but then he quickly puts a forefinger against my lips and I wait impatiently for him to finish what he's about to say. "I'll never be good. But then, I suppose, I'll be good to you."

"You better be," I say quickly, without thinking, and then just as suddenly realize my slip-up. Edward smiles widely at my words, and gives me a look that says, _See? _I smile weakly and pummel my fists lightly against his chest. "That's not what I meant! You _already_ are good to me!"

He pulls me to him, and I bury my face into the collar of his white hospital shirt. We both stand pressed together for a very long moment, holding on to each other. I feel his stubbly chin against my neck as he rests his warm face on my shoulder. I didn't realize until yesterday just how much a hug could mean. To have the person you are most concerned about hold you, it could be the greatest medicine of all.

"So, you're leaving the hospital today?" I ask in a hushed whisper, remembering what he had said to his father before, still so surprised by how sudden it was.

"Yes," he whispers, his voice low and soft as he moves his face up and thrusts my head underneath his chin. "The nurse and doctors say I'm free to be discharged from the hospital today." His jaw moves against my scalp, tickling me, as he speaks.

I realize it was very comfortable and warm, standing here with Edward by the window like this. I close my eyes tightly shut, enjoying and relishing in the peaceful, calm moment. I wished that we could stay like this forever, in some alternate realm where it was just the two of us, with no concerns or troubles whatsoever...

And then I remember my current predicament. Would it be selfish of me to even ask this of him, especially considering what he has only just been through? "Would you mind if I stayed at Irina's with you?" I ask Edward apprehensively. I hear him exhale loudly above me in surprise.

"What about your father?" He murmurs against my hair, sounding taken aback. "Won't he be concerned about all of this, love?"

I am suddenly rigid with tension at the mention of my father. I quickly ignore his questions regarding my father. "It'll only be for a month or two, I promise." I try to keep the pleading out of my voice, but it's without success. I add, quickly, "I'll start... looking for a job, save up some money, and then I'll move out on my own as quickly as I possibly can!"

He thinks this through in silence, and then he says, sounding offended, "Of course, because it would be _very _stressful moving into an apartment together with your mentally-ill, unstable and potentially psychotic boyfriend?" He mumbles sarcastically.

I am still at his words, shocked. Did Edward actually want us to move in together? It wouldn't be so bad, I realized, thinking it through. We would see each other more often. We could spend every day together. We could do things together, things that normal couples seemed to do, like going to the movies, or taking early morning strolls...

Not only that, but I would always be seeing him, checking in on him, making sure he was safe. I could know for certain if he had taken the right amount of medication and I could always cheer him up if his moods were low... Of course, it would be tough to handle also; I still didn't quite understand Bipolar Disorder and how it affects moods and the body.

We stand there in silence, me thinking about all the amazing possibilities of the both of us living together, and also the numerous difficulties, until I feel his hand come up across my cheek.

"I was wondering why you looked so different, love," he says quietly. _Oh, crap!_ "It's your face. It's somewhat different... Not in a bad way, of course, because that is quite the sheer impossibility to me. But it's undeniably different."

I can't tell him. Who knows what he would do to Charlie, or what Charlie would do to him? Either way, it would end badly.

"It's nothing," I lie, burying my face into his shirt. If he saw my face clearly, he would most likely see through my lies sooner or later. "I just fell over. I'm clumsy like that." It sounded like something I would most definitely do – fall over. I feel the sudden need to change the topic. "So, do you think Irina will mind or not?"

"No, she won't mind, love." It seems I have distracted him enough, but his hand doesn't disappear from my cheek. He strokes it lightly with his fingertips.

I peek up at him. He's staring down at me, his forehead creased, lips pressed tight. "Would _you_ mind?" I ask, uncertain and worried.

He tilts his head back, away from me. "Would _I_ mind?" he repeats quietly, incredulous. He looks away from me for a moment, his expression playfully thoughtful. "What kind of question is that, love?" He smiles his closed mouth twitch as he leans down tentatively, resting his forehead against mine.

I'm immediately startled by the warmth of his forehead; he still seems to be very hot and fevered. I stare at his handsome face as he closes his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering delicately underneath his eyelids. His lips are slighted parted and I feel the constant stream of his warm breath ricocheting against my cheek. I lift my hands away from his shoulders and gently cup them both over his ears. His eyes flutter open at my movement, his green eyes twinkling, and then he tilts his head. He kisses me, his lips moving gently over mine and I exhale against his mouth.

He is my lover, my... _boyfriend_, and he is _alive_! He is kissing me! I realized then.

Nothing could go wrong in this moment; nothing could mar the happiness and aliveness I felt right now, while he was kissing me and embracing me. No longer was he unconscious in the hospital bed! He was here! Right now, with his arms are wrapped around me, pressing me tightly against his own body.

With Edward alive and recovering, life is good.


	36. The Girl Hanging in Edward's Meadow

**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all to do with Twilight. All belong to Stephenie Meyer. Hope you enjoy this chapter and that it isn't a dissapointment. :-) Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews, favourites, and alerts. I appreciate it so much and love you all for sticking with me. Thank you thank you thankyou! I'm really anxious about this chapter. Hope it isn't a dissapointment again lol, but hopefully it answers some questions that you've been wondering from the beginning!**

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Irina was joyous over Edward's recovery and arrival home from the hospital. Edward didn't even need to knock on the door; she was already there by the door within a minute as his Volvo glided smoothly into the driveway, and she flung the door wide open to hug him, her eyes leaking with tears.

After she released him, she stretched up on tiptoes and ruffled his hair playfully with her hand, and Edward rolled his eyes at me before entering the house, acting as though nothing had ever just even happened. I could tell he didn't want to make a big fuss about the whole thing, but Irina wouldn't seem to let him off easily. She seemed like an overprotective mother, and with good reason considering Edward almost... I couldn't seem to bring myself to admit how close he was to being gone.

In the kitchen, it is Irina who is first to break the silence. "Okay, Edward," she tells him firmly, her hands on her hips, her expression grim. "You can take two pills now, and that's _all_." She slips two pills into his waiting palms and then puts the bottle into the drawer; I could tell she was trying her hardest to keep up her new assigned job of watcher to Edward's medication dosages, honouring his foster parents and the doctor's request with fierce severity. "Bella, can you watch him, too. Make sure he takes them and _only_ them."

I nod silently and Edward sighs loudly. He slips out of the chair and walks directly over to her. He pulls open the drawer, rummaging around loudly and takes the bottle of pills back out. "I'm eighteen, Irina," he says to her through clenched teeth. "I'm not some fucking child! I can take care of myself." He sets them on the counter, the pills rattling loudly against each other in the bottle.

I quickly avert my eyes, staring down at my hands at his sudden outburst. That was unexpected, and slightly uncomfortable and unnerving to be around him when he was like this, especially to Irina, although she hardly looked surprised at all; it was as though she was already used to it.

But still, Irina gives me an apologetic look, as though understanding what I was feeling completely. "Then stop acting like one, Edward," she warns him gently, unfazed, switching on the tap and filling a tall glass with water.

She hands it to him and he stares over at me, his eyes squinted in frustration. "By the way, Bella's staying here now." I gasp and glare at him meaningfully at his words, shocked by them and the way he all of a sudden said it, so harsh and thoughtlessly.

This wasn't the way that I had planned on asking her; Edward and I had talked it over briefly in the car on the short drive back to Irina's, and not once did it turn out this way. I twiddle my thumbs, swallowing nervously, before asking Irina nervously, "Would you, um, mind if I did... just for a little while?"

She thinks this through for a moment and this feeling of dread washes over me as I sense that she is going to say no. But then she shakes her head. "I don't mind." She smiles at me warmly, to my absolute relief. "So long as you give me your father's telephone number and address, and I'll give him a call to let him know," she adds sternly. She pulls out a small notepad and ballpoint pen from the refrigerator. I hesitate before scribbling down Charlie's number and my old house address.

As I did so, I could feel Edward watching me. All the little hairs on my scalp rose as I wondered what he was thinking in that instance. Was he suspicious? Would he soon put two and two together and realize that it was in fact Charlie that I was purposely trying to avoid because he hurt me?

I turn slowly after I'm done, to realize Edward isn't even looking at me. He is staring down at his sneakers, a pensive expression on his face, and his glass of water resting beside his elbow.

I think the paranoia of Edward discovering my new secrecies was starting to finally scare me...

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After we had dinner with Irina and her boyfriend/neighbour Laurent, a very good-natured man with dark, long dangling dreadlocks for hair and a white radiant smile, who kept cracking me up with humorous jokes of Indians and cowboys, Edward and I at last excuse ourselves from them, to give them both peace and privacy.

I would have been happy to stay sitting there all night, listening to his adventurous comedic stories, but then Edward began distracting me after a while. He was seated directly across the table from me so it wasn't like I could ignore him either way. And I didn't seem to want to; I could have observed Edward's face for years and never get sick of looking at him.

But I was beginning to feel absurdly self-conscious when I felt him staring at me, just like in the cafeteria at school and in our several classes together before we had even ever spoken to each other and... before the whole bathroom stall incident.

I had glanced up from my dirty plate in time to catch him watching me as Laurent was telling another one of his stories. "What?" I mouthed, my cheeks burning, before raising a hand and brushing my fringe back away from my face nervously.

Edward had shrugged, looking absurdly pleased with himself, and then – unconsciously or deliberately, I wasn't sure – he mirrored my movement, combing a hand through his bronze, tousled hair and then he gave me a breathtaking crooked smile.

I frowned at him, trying to concentrate on Laurent's storytelling, leaning my elbows on the table and turning my body into the direction of Laurent's audacious voice, though without success. I caught the movement in the corner of my eye, Edward leaning on the table with his elbows also, and still watching me. I think I turned as red as a beetroot just then.

And then I felt it, as light as a feather, someone's foot nudging against mine meaningfully from underneath the table. My eyes flitted back to Edward's face without consent as he mouthed: "My room."

It was then that we had both excused ourselves from Irina and her guest, and as I followed Edward slowly up the hallway and into his room, I could faintly hear them making soft, murmuring noises at each other.

I laugh as Edward carefully closes the door behind me. "Were you just trying to play footsies with me?" I ask, incredulous, shaking with laughter.

"No, I wouldn't dream of it," Edward says softly, feigning outrage as he leans against the doorframe and stares down at me. "That was me trying to distract you, love. It's not my fault if you are horrendously inattentive when your mind is elsewhere..." He shrugs.

It was my turn to feign outrage now. "Well, excuse me!" I cross my arms over my chest, and glower up at him. "It's not my fault if you are so self-absorbed that you assume you're the only interesting person in the world!"

He grins at me, like some kind of childish fiend, as he moves over to his drawers. "Oh, yeah," he calls behind his shoulder distractedly, as he starts searching for something to wear to bed. "Name _one _thing out of Laurent's stories that you found even remotely interesting, love?"

I think it through for a moment, but then my mind immediately goes blank as Edward pulls off his shirt. My eyes roam down the muscles of his back absentmindedly, and then he turns around to meet my gaze, probably confused over my sudden bout of silence, his brows furrowed.

"I give up," I surrender miserably, waving a hand in the air vaguely. Edward grins at me largely as he undoes the top button of his jeans and I quickly twirl around on the spot, looking anywhere else but at him. Why was it that Edward had the ability to make something as innocent as getting changed for bed into something deliciously seductive?

I shake my head a little, trying to clear the thought as I move around the mess that is his room. It becomes clear that he is one of those people that are overly fastidious about only the things he cares about, or uses regularly. Like his guitar, or his leather notebook that he is constantly jotting things down in, it is clear that his CD collection and player are one of those several things. Two shelves are covered completely in stacks of CDs and tapes and I glance around me quickly, making sure the coast is clear, before pressing down the latch on Edward's CD player to see what he has been listening to recently. The lid immediately jolts up, scaring me half to death:

Kings of Leon.

Edward is abashed, I notice, as he comes to stand beside me to see what I'm doing, at last fully dressed and not a hint of enticing. "They're one of my favourites," he says simply, before leaning over and pressing the top down and hitting the play button.

"Kings of Leon are great," I agree, modestly.

I listen patiently as _Sex on Fire_ starts to play softly in the background. It was hard not to respond to their phenomenal sound. I move, shaking my head awkwardly to the baseline; dancing never was a strength of mine.

_Lay where you're laying, don't make a sound,_

_I know they're watching, they're watching..._

Edward stares at me, watching me, as I move ungraciously, the music coursing through me, vibrating straight down my spine and through to my toes. I quickly stop self-consciously when I see he is shaking silently with laughter. Great Bella! What a wonderful way to embarrass yourself in front of him!

And then Edward tentatively moves closer in toward me, grasping me around the waist and positioning my body directly in line to his, and then he gently takes my hand. _What the hell is he doing_? I look up at him, confused and anxious, as he raises our joined hands and then starts twirling me around once, twice, three times as the music drifts loudly into the mind-blowing chorus.

_Has people talking, talking..._

_You!_

_Your sex is on fire!_

The way Edward dances, so professionally and elegantly like a ballroom dancer, doesn't quite fit the fast-paced beat, but I wasn't complaining. Soon we have moved on over to Edward's bed and in place of dancing, we have taken to jumping on it in sync, as though it is our very own personal jumping castle.

The springs creak loudly, _Sex on Fire_ on repeat, as we jump higher and higher, almost touching the ceiling with our heads, and sometimes we go pitching so high that we almost collide into each other. And then Edward collapses onto the bed and onto his back, panting, sprawled out and I carefully lay next to him, trying to catch my breath, our shoulders touching.

My hair is damp with sweat, thick dark ropes that stick like glue to my face and neck and back and arms. My heart is pounding from our sudden bout of joyous, unexplainable childish activity and I raise a hand, pulling my hair out of my eyes and back against my scalp.

I am suddenly overcome with regret as I remember Irina and Laurent are probably trying to sleep in the other room, and we were making so much careless noise... I wonder idly if this is how it feels to have Bipolar, where everything is sudden, something done in the spur of the moment without much thought of feeling, and then afterwards, the recognition suddenly hits you like a thunderstorm, weighing you down...

I turn my head and look over at Edward. He is staring straight at the ceiling, and I wonder what it is he is thinking about. "Fuck," he says underneath his breath suddenly, as though realizing about Irina and her guest in the next room, too. He sits up on his elbows quickly and stares down at me. "Irina probably assumes we're doing something else in here right now, love - considering the music choice..." He looks horrified.

I giggle at his expression; I can't seem to help myself. "Not to mention all the noise," I point out, grinning. "All of that... bed squeaking."

"Oh, well." He waves a hand dismissively and gives me a smile, and then lies back down next to me, stretching out his arms above his head, pondering. "Oh, yeah. Do you want to go back to your house tomorrow morning and pick up a few things, love? Some clothes, perhaps?" He asks softly after a moment as he curls a piece of his bronzed, tousled hair between his fingers. "Or you can keep on wearing mine. Either way, I don't mind. You look adorable in my clothes, frankly..."

I review my options. I would have been glad even if I never had to step foot inside of Charlie's house ever again. But then, something told me, that you couldn't keep running away from the things you feared the most. Charlie was my father. What was the worst that could happen if I did return and gathered a few of my things?

Irina had called my father straight after I had given her his number, so that cleared the bag, as far as telling him I was moving out goes. At least now that he knew, he could take a few days to calm down and rethink everything through. He shouldn't be mad if I returned quickly to gather my things.

I hesitate. "Okay," I agree, anxiously. "Tomorrow morning would be great..."

But then, I had this sudden unsettling feeling, an intuition perhaps, that something unpleasant would inevitably happen if Edward showed up with me. Either Charlie would do something that will provoke Edward, or Edward would do something to provoke Charlie. Either way, something very bad was bound to happen on my return.

Yet, peeking over at Edward, who is still, silent, handsomely unaware as I do so, it felt treacherous of me to even assume such assumptions. Things seemed better now. Not only between us, but between Edward and his foster parents. _He_ seemed better now; although it was still probably too early to tell. These things didn't just happen overnight, after all...

"Bella?" Edward's velvety voice breaks me out of my own pondering. I glance over at him, surprised by the use of my name and how he spoke it, full of urgency. He is still staring up at the ceiling, though slightly distracted as his hands fumble around, as he tries to undo the buttons on his shirt. "Like I asked before in the hospital, don't you ever think about being with someone... normal?"

So, we were back to this again? He turns on his side, resting his head against his palm as he props himself up with his elbow on the mattress to look at my face while I thought this through.

"What's normal, Edward?" I ask after a moment, trying to keep the anger I felt at his question from spilling out into my words. "There's no exact textbook definition of normal. Ask a million people – and everyone's answer will be different. But, to me, you _are _normal!"

I knew what he probably wanted to hear; he probably wanted me to agree, to tell him he was right, that he _was_ anything but normal. But I didn't believe that myself. To me, he was just like everybody else, but a little more... interesting.

"I could think of million men who would be better for you. _Normal_ men, love." Underneath the stubbornness there is fright, as though he was terrified that with all of his pushing and prodding, that I would finally relent and see the light.

"I've _never_ wanted normal, Edward."

At least, normal was what Edward was to me, even if he didn't see it himself. Considering dating someone else – even if there was the slightest possibility than anyone else could found me attractive in the way that Edward does – felt completely _un-normal_ to me.

I'd never taken much stock into labels. Normal. Strange. Crazy.

All I knew was that I couldn't ever imagine myself being with somebody else, except Edward.

Normal. Strange. Crazy. He was all the same to me.

I force myself to look directly into his eyes as I roll onto my side. I wasn't as afraid to say it as I thought I would be this time around. This time it felt completely right, and heartfelt, after everything we had been through lately. I suppose, when you come so close to losing someone you care deeply about, you ultimately realize how much so that you like them and need them.

I take a deep breath, before asking, my voice coming out small and wobbly: "What would you say if I told you I loved you?"

Edward stares at my face for a moment, his body absolutely still and for a moment I start to panic, assuming he has stopped breathing once again. But then, a second later, his smiles a wide jubilant smile, his green eyes twinkling, and I realized then in that moment that he was very appreciative over what I had just told him. I feel relieved, weightless, as he leans into me, pressing his mouth against my forehead, and then he whispers against my skin: "Thank you. I love you, too. You have _no idea_ how much so, love!"

But then I already do.

* * *

**EPOV:**

I stand for long moments staring down intently at my only chance for a happy and bright future as she drifts off into another better, conventional world without me. She sleeps tightly balled up, knees to her chest, wound up in a sea of blankets, her mouth somewhat open. The early morning sun begins to gather around her, and I listen warily each and every time she exhales and inhales, making me feel more animate as every moment passes by.

I am overwhelmed with desire, this sudden ear-splitting need to awaken her, to haul her back into my devastating world, where everything is exactly like it is in hell. But she doesn't deserve this. I wish there was somehow some way that I could make her see clearly, but she refuses to believe...

One part of me, one lone little piece of me, wanted to take Bella by the shoulders and tell her to move on, to live her life without me. I'll only be weighing her down. I'm only tainting her existence. Yet the other part, the part that said that if I wanted to keep her mine forever, was telling me to try hard for her.

To try _harder_.

No matter how hard I try, it'll never be enough...

Simply by looking at her face, at the gradually healing bruise there on her cheek, it's another constant, treacherous reminder that I've somehow failed her in some form or another. I can discern how much she is fighting to hide it from me, the very reasons behind what happened to her. And yet I couldn't seem to blame her.

Who knows what I will do when she finally enlightens me with the truth. Simply put, I wouldn't hesitate to kill the very person who did that to her. Did that to _my_ love. I would restrain them down and strike hard until their very last breath.

_No, I would never do that_, I decided right then and there as my Bella turns her head and lays her bruised cheek against the pillow as she dreams of many exciting new worlds without my interfering presence.

Before, in those dark blue days, where I didn't feel entirely myself, I had seen her face so very clearly, the repulsion in her eyes as she had witnessed what I had done when the anger and violence I had repressed all of a sudden took over. I could never bear to let her see me like that again, so far gone and well beyond saving. I could never bear to see _her _look at me in that way again...

Yet she was still here...

Despite everything, despite my mistakes that I seem to do day after day, she is still here, and why? What reasons could she possibly have to justify what I did so monstrously while I was who I was before? There are no possible explanations, no reasons...

Does she feel obligated, as though she is at fault? Does she feel as though she made me who I was _before_ and therefore feels this compelling obligation to stay and repair the situation? Stay and repair _me_? There was no denying my Bella made me absolutely crazy for her at times, but still there was no comprehension into _why_.

And yet, because of my lack of understanding and because of her seemingly endless sympathetic abilities – which left me with a higher appreciation of her - I felt that I loved her more than anything else in the waking world. Of course, and still to the exact same extreme measures as before, because that part would never seem to want to wane.

But, right now, I have to get away. Before I disturb her and wake her from her beautiful slumber.

At least, when she's sleeping, I am unable to hurt her anymore. I can't risk her life and tinge it with despair and heartache and all of those other gifts that I seem to bare while I continue on existing in hers when she's awake.

I feel the intense need to tell her about her _now_.

I gather my sneakers and my notebook, and take one last look at my beautiful love, at her adorable face that seems to leave me evaporating into soft putty at the mere sight of her, and then leave.

Although she cannot speak to me, sometimes I stay in the meadow at hours on end, writing to her in my notebook, proving to her that it _is_ actually possible that somebody _can_ love me despite my perilous faults and fixations. Nature seems very forgiving of her death. While to me, the earth in the meadow smells as it truly is underneath, where she lays, moist dirt and worms and other ghastly pests eating at her flesh, and where everything surrounding us smells exactly like death, she doesn't seem to taint anything...

The cicadas continue to chant in the trees, and the daisies never cease to blossom.

But her tree, always with its branch snapped off and hovering low at the weight of her limp body as she floated in the air stationary, is always there as a constant, dismal reminder of what happened before.

Of what_ I_ did to her. Of what I _caused_ her to do...

"_Edward's strange, Mr. Cullen. He... he looks at me very weirdly and talks about really deep things. It scares me sometimes. Like, we're just hanging out and getting to know each other at school, and he starts saying all these really creepy things about marriage and love. I'm fourteen, I mean – I seldom think about guys that way right now!"_

_Let it be quick, I told myself constantly as I drove my car down the ruler-straight highway and to our meadow. Just agree to meet her there, act as though you never heard a single thing between her and Carlisle. Let her leave. This will be a good experience for you – you can start focusing on more important things..._

_The sky was dark and overcast as I arrived there. I left my keys straight in the ignition. I didn't want to risk anyone stealing my car - that would have given me enough incentive to leave quickly. Only it turns out she had made different plans._

_At first, I didn't think there was anything bizarre about it. Everything was still, silent. There were no birds singing in the trees. There was only darkness... and then something eerily white, ghostly pale ahead. As I reached her, I tried not to crack at the sight of her: this surely had nothing at all to do with me, or so I kept on reassuring myself._

_The swell of the heavy breeze rotates the noose of the rope connected around her neck and subsequently her motionless body around, her arms and hands dangling loosely at her sides as she sways. How could she leave me like this? In a world that's so cold and dark and dismal?_

_I loved her more than my life itself, and yet this was how she repaid me? _

_I was an animal ready to die in that instance. _

_Only she, my Bella, brought me back to life..._

"_Edward! You have to snap out of this!" My mother Esme cries, although everything then was distant, an undistinguishable blur of sadness and blue. "I don't know what's wrong with you anymore! Your father and I are seriously thinking about setting up an intervention here!"_

_The wind in the meadow seems to flatten everything, the daisies and the grass. A string of saliva depilated from her wide-open mouth. The rope gives out._

"_I don't know what to think anymore!" Esme takes me by the shoulders and tries to shake me out of it. If only things were that simple..._

_And then in gym class, this beautiful girl smacks me straight in the face with the volleyball, and it was suddenly as if in that instance she had swiped my whole mind clean of Tanya. Of all my guilt and worries. Of what I had caused her to do... how I caused her to kill herself... over my overbearing obsession._

_Please don't let it happen twice_, I think to myself, and the very thought leaves a painful stabbing feeling in my heart as I think of my Bella at home, beautifully oblivious and deep into her dreaming. _Please don't let her leave me like Tanya did over my... disease._


	37. Back To This & Edward's Breakdown

**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all to do with Twilight. Thank thank thank you all for your reviews. Hope you like this chapter and that it isn't boring :S Thanks so much again**!

* * *

**BSPOV:**

It's an overcast, gray morning as I wake.

With my eyes closed, I search around me blindly for Edward's body with my hands underneath the sheets. Just like last time, the bed is completely empty. I slowly open my eyes and have to blink a little to adjust to the blinding white light that is leaking in through the open curtains.

Where is Edward? Where has he gone off to?

Then I remembered, just as suddenly, that he was probably just having a shower again, like the other morning I had spent here, only now this house, Irina's house, was to be my home, for a little while...

I smile to myself as I think back to what I did last night; I had told Edward that I loved him, at last. There were no doubts about my feelings now. I love him! I actually_ love_ somebody! My heart surges as his face comes into my mind, the way he smiled, so beautifully and contentedly, when I had told him.

_And he had said it in return! _

It was amazing how that knowledge alone took over so much relief and excitement for the future and what we had together. Not only the numerous possibilities for a future with Edward, but the fact that I am late – the fact that I may or not be pregnant - because we hadn't used contraception...

I try my very hardest not to beat myself up over that daunting fact, but I can't help but imagine, just imagine for one second what Edward would be like as a father. It was a very hard concept to take in.

My mind is suddenly blank as I hear the bedroom door slowly creak open, and the scuffle of someone's shoes against the carpet. I close my eyes, pretending to be fast asleep, and my mind still as I listen to the noises coming from the bed opposite me. The bed squeaks as someone lies down, pressing their chest against me, warming my back.

I realize its Edward when I feel him take gentle hold of my elbow and I stir slowly, rolling over on my back, and my eyes flutter open to discover Edward is staring down at my face. The expression on his face haunted me in that moment; his eyes were rimmed red, as though he had been crying just a while ago, his bronzed hair sticking up in all possible directions. Something is obviously bothering him.

I panic. "Edward," I whisper, concernedly. "What's wrong? Do you feel sick?"

He doesn't say anything, just stares at my face. He presses his lips together; he is pale and hollow-eyed and doesn't say a single word. He runs his hand down my arm, a caress. What is going on? What am I meant to do? Just lay here while he doesn't say a single darned thing and watches me?

And then, just as suddenly, I put two and two together as he tries to peel up the shirt I'm wearing with his hands. Does he want us to make love _now_? "Edward, I can't right now..." I tell him urgently.

I can tell he is offended. He pulls himself up and away from me, so that he is leaning against the headboard. He passes a hand over his face, then sighs shakily. He covers his face in his hands, so I can't make out his expression properly, and how much I've hurt him. "You don't want me, love," he says in a hushed whisper. "I understand that now..."

I sit up. "Don't talk like that," I say loudly. "I'll always want you! I _do_ want you." I try to pull his hands away from his face, but he is too strong for me. I suppose I'll have to settle to talking to him just as he is, then, with his handsome face covered. "Only... we can't do this. Not now." I swallow nervously. "I'm nervous about... seeing Charlie today."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, ever," Edward mumbles, rubbing his forehead with his hands. "Nor do you have to lie."

_How dare you say that?_ "I'm not lying!"

"So, love, you're not lying about being anxious seeing your father today?" He lets his hands fall from his face at last, and I find him looking at me dubiously. Then Edward suddenly bursts out laughing softly, hysterical, and I feel the rage simmering inside of me.

I clamp my mouth tightly shut, trying to control my fury. Then, by accident I think, I blurt out the worst thing I could have probably said right now. "Edward, I'm late..."

Edward's laughter abruptly falls short as he glances up at me, still, waiting for me to say more. "Late for what, love?" he asks confusedly, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown. Then his mouth twitches, on the verge of laughter once more, his green eyes twinkling. "An appointment of some sort? A medical examination, perhaps?" He smiles at me crookedly.

"I'm..." Here goes nothing. I regard him miserably, and he finally sees that I'm serious and that this is something that is deeply concerning me. "I'm due for my period and I still haven't gotten it. I usually get it around this time, and I still haven't." I hang my head, afraid to look at him. "I'm scared I might be... pregnant." My voice breaks on the last word.

There is long torturous moment of silence where Edward is quiet, thinking this through. Then he takes gentle hold of my hands, which are clasped tightly in my lap. "And have you known this for a while now, love?" he asks softly. I can't tell by the sound of his voice if he sounds angry or disappointed or not.

"I realized when you were still in the hospital unconscious..." I admit, shakily.

He thinks it through for a moment. "Hmm. And you knew all through then, and this was concerning you, and you didn't even tell me?" He sounds offended, I realized then.

"It didn't seem right telling you... after what you've been through, with overdosing and finally visiting your mother. I think you have enough to deal with already right now, without me complicating things even further."

"Either way, it doesn't matter." He takes me in his arms, and holds me to him tightly. _Thank God,_ I think to myself as I rest my forehead against his chest. _Thank God he's not angry. He's neutral about all of this..._ "You should have told me straight away regardless, love," he mumbles against my hair. "We should have carried the burden of not knowing for certain together..."

"What happens if it's positive and it turns out that I _am_ pregnant?" I breathe, feeling a little teary. I think about what could happen if it did; I imagine Edward holding a baby girl wrapped in a bundle of pink sheets protectively in his arms. Could it really be_ that_ bad?

"If so, this could be good for me, love." He presses his mouth to my forehead. "If it's meant to be, it's meant to be. When we're done at your father's house, taking some of your clothes, we'll pick up a test, all right?"

I'm suddenly even more nervous and tense at the sound of buying a test. "What if all the stores are closed?" I ask miserably, but then realized it was probably only wishful thinking on my part.

If we brought a test, it would inevitably cause us to know whether things would be dramatically changing around us. Of course, while I knew the whole purpose of a pregnancy test was to do exactly just that, it was incredibly daunting all the same. In a way, I felt more content not knowing...

"Yeah, well." I feel Edward raise his shoulder underneath me and shrug. "I'll drive around all night if I have to, love."

It was then that I realized, with how he said it, so determined and as though it was no big deal to him, that I got to thinking that perhaps maybe Edward wanted this? And that maybe, just maybe, despite what was going on erratically inside of him, that this _could_ be good for him, and that he would most likely make a great, doting young father to a child. But something deep inside of me told me that _I _still wasn't ready for this and what motherhood would bring...

Somehow, despite how callous it made me seem, dealing with Edward right now and his recovery and medication-taking was more than enough for me to handle. I knew the qualms of pregnancy would complicate things ever further...

* * *

A new feeling was weighing heavily down onto my conscience as we arrived at Charlie's.

Charlie's rusty cruiser was parked conspicuously in the drive way, which meant that I had no other option but to try my very hardest to ignore him. Edward agreed to wait patiently in the car and I could tell he could see that I was anxious.

I took my time trudging up the steps and as I unlocked the front door of the house and pushed it open, I realized the house was absolutely quiet. Where is Charlie? I wondered as I closed the door behind me as gently as I possibly could.

I spent the next few minutes up in my room, gathering some clothes and filling my make-up bag with necessities. It was only then, as I was doing up the zipper on the bag and peering through the yellow lace curtains that were rippling sightly from the light breeze through my half-way opened window, that I heard a shimmer of tense voices from outside.

My eyes flit down to Edward's Volvo, the faint sunlight glinting off the exterior blindingly, and it was then that I realized the door on the side he had been sitting in was wide open. Edward was no longer sitting in there, from what little I could manage to see. The car was completely abandoned.

_Oh, please everything be all right!_

I take a deep breath as I pull the straps of my full backpack around my shoulders and head to the door. I turn around on the spot for a moment, observing my empty looking room with despair. I was going to miss the comfort of my room – and the so many memories that came along with it.

_Tread carefully and slowly_, I tell myself as I close my bedroom door securely shut, my eyes brimming with tears as I slowly climb down the staircase, the floorboard squeaking underneath my sneakers with every wary step I took. Halfway down the staircase, I heard the voices more clearly:

"What?" Edward was speaking to someone, his voice clear and full of agitation. "Excuse me, what did you say?"

There's a loud clutter of noise coming from the kitchen, something breaking, and then someone groans loudly, an agonizing sound that seemed to bounce off the kitchen walls.

_Charlie?_

I am still, holding my breath, clutching the wall for support so I don't trip down the staircase. All the little hairs on the top of my scalp rose, my heart racing in panic. What is going on in there?

I reach the bottom of the steps and then hesitate before peeking around the corner. The sight leaves me tightly coiled in fear. Edward is holding Charlie, my father, flat against the wall, his hands clutching at the front of my father's collar. Charlie is sweating heavily and tries to strain against Edward's hold.

He looks at Edward with an expression of immense hatred, his cheeks flushed pink. "I... I didn't mean to hit her." Charlie is breathing strenuously, his breaths coming out in long, whistling whinnies.

"Still, if you touch my wife again, I will not hesitate to remove your filthy hands from your arms permanently," Edward tells him, his voice so chilling and full of warning that it shook me.

_His wife? Oh please, no! Please don't let him go back there again... _I plead and plead to a higher power. But, it seemed, no matter how much I tried to plead, no one seemed to want to answer and reassure me that Edward was getting better and that I had nothing to worry about. For once in my life, I felt as lonely as I could possibly be in that instance.

* * *

My father's face is white underneath the redness at Edward's threat. I look at Edward, who is so impassive and calm, like an avenger on a mission, and at Charlie, who looks as if he is dying to knock Edward out in a blind rage of hatred, and then realized I couldn't deal with this right now.

I couldn't deal with witnessing all of this; witnessing the very two people that I adored more than anything else in the world, despite their many faults, going at each other. And then Edward puts Charlie's whole weight back onto himself, pushing him back away from the wall and securely back onto his own two, steady feet.

They both are quick to recompose themselves, Edward rolling up his sleeves while my father slides down to the floor, trying to catch his breath.

I swallow against the thick lump in my throat as I creep out to Edward's car in a trance, wishing I could forget what had just broken out between the pair of them.

What the hell _was_ that? I ask myself bitterly.

I lean against the car, tightening the straps of my backpack over my shoulders as Edward comes out of the house, his arms dangling at his sides, though both his hands are still balled up into tight fists. I could tell he was acting under pretence; as though nothing had just even happened between the pair of them. I knew he wasn't aware of me standing there in the hallway, lurking in on them, wide-eyed in fear as he said what he did to my father.

He gives me a strained smile as he comes to stand right beside me. "Have you gotten everything you need, love?" he asks, all innocence and indifference, combing a hand through his bronze, tousled hair as he stares down at my face.

I can't quite bring myself to look him in the eyes; nor could I seem to find enough moisture in my mouth to speak, so I just nod silently and hop into his Volvo without a word.

_Shit._

I watch Edward drive, though trying to seem as though I'm not really looking, as he heads along the highway. His knuckles are pale white and clenched tightly around the steering wheel. All the while there is a satisfied, small smirk playing along the edges of his mouth.

He must see me watching him through the corner of his eye because he turns his head into my direction, and I quickly stare down at my lap. He sighs loudly. "You, uhm... you saw that, didn't you, love?" he asks me knowingly and for the first time since leaving Charlie's house after the scuffle had raged between them, I am able to look directly into his green eyes. I see the deep flash of regret in them.

"Yes." My voice comes out as low as a whisper and he suddenly looks uncomfortable at my admission.

"I didn't want you to have to see that," he tells me gently. His face is apologetic. "It was never my intention for you to ever see me like that ever again, believe me. I just couldn't seem to help myself." He raises a hand, as fast as lightening, and I flinch as he smacks himself on the forehead with a loud _thud_ before returning his hand slowly to the steering wheel. "I know it's still inexcusable to behave in that way regardless, but when I realized how you must have gotten that bruise on your cheek I... I lost it, love."

Tears – or sweat, I wasn't sure which - begin to stream from his eyes and down his cheeks and he sighs deeply, staring straight ahead, not daring to look at me, and then just as suddenly I realize Edward is shaking with sobbing and I'm not entirely sure whether I should comfort him or not over what happened.

Everything was conflicted in that instance; I wanted to reach out and tell him that I forgive him, but then that was my_ father_ back there and the whole thing frightened me more than anything ever before.

If either one of them had gotten seriously hurt, if things had gone for the worse, I think I would have just about died...

"I know, Edward..."

I'm having trouble saying it.

"I know it's just your natural instinct to assume that you have to protect me. I know it was... a gesture out of goodness."

Edward pulls the car over on the side of the road at my uncertain words and then he slowly unbuckles his seatbelt. I pull him into my lap and then we shake tightly together, his head resting against my knees and I run my fingers through his soft hair.

"I killed her," I hear him say several times in a deep, low groan that tears through his clenched teeth. " Sometimes I like to go down to the meadow and tell her about you..."

I am both startled and shocked at his words. _Who was he talking about? _

I sit there in silence, trying to comfort him and yet I was trying to make sense of it all at the same time, but I wasn't really understanding what just happened and _what _he was talking about exactly.


	38. Abomination

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing at all to do with Twilight. All belong to S. Meyer. Hope this chapter isn't a dissapointment; I know I update fast. Sorry, if it's nothing substantial. Thank you so much for your reviews and I hope I haven't let you down :s I appreciate your reviews, favorites and alerts so much. I never thought anyone would like my writing, so really you have all blown me away. _**

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After witnessing Edward crying in his car, it seemed he altered for me in some way.

Although he probably didn't mean to do the things or say the things that he did, it was probably the Bipolar speaking; I found that it still didn't diminish the fact that I loved him.

I was filled with anguish and unease as we arrived at the grocery store to purchase a pregnancy test. I could tell Edward was afraid of what just happened within himself and I knew he was probably expecting me to say my goodbye's right there and then and leave him. And yet I couldn't seem to leave him... _I didn't seem to want to_.

After all, I wasn't about to break my promise. When Edward presented me a promise ring, I had agreed to fight through this with him, to carry on down along this road, together. I knew there was a high change of this being difficult - heartbreaking, I was beginning to realize now - when I noticed he was really suffering. But what if he never got better? What if things kept spiralling downward from here? Thinking such thoughts didn't seem to agree with me so much.

"Amazing," Edward says, shocked, as he walks ahead of me over to one of the aisles and inspects all the different pregnancy tests branded on the shelves. "Shall we get more than a few, just in case, or should one just suffice, love?"

I shrug, staring down at my hands. "I think they'll all say the same result that we need to know in the end. One should be good enough..."

As we line up to pay for the test, the lady behind the counter looks at the both of us inquiringly, as she scans the little pink pack, for more than what was probably deemed necessary; I could tell she knew what we were here for, obviously. I idly wondered if she had a lot of teenagers coming in here in the middle of the night, who were careless enough to risk getting pregnant without using contraception like we had been.

I was instantly relieved as we exited the store, the small, imposing packaged box containing the test that we rested the fates of our lives on tucked away underneath my arm, as we strolled back to Edward's car slowly and making halted, brief conversations in the dark.

Halfway toward Irina's house, we were both silent, distracted with thoughts of a new, exhilarating life a child could bring to the both of us and still a little afraid to speak about what happened _before,_ as Edward drives his Volvo cautiously along the ruler-straight highway, wary not to push too high speeds in case he crashed. I knew he was only doing it to take extra precautions for what may or may not be growing inside of me, and for that it made me extra appreciative.

"So, what's the worst that could happen with all of this?" Edward speaks at last, breaking the bubble of silence and nervous tension between us once and for all.

I look over at him and say the first thing that enters my mind without hesitation. "There's many things to take into consideration if the test is positive, Edward... so many things that we need to do to make this work."

Edward taps his fingers against the steering wheel before meeting my gaze and smiling at me crookedly. "Like what things exactly?"

"For one thing, neither of us has a job..." I prompt gently. "We don't get constant supplies of income, nor do we live in our own apartment..."

"But all of that can be easily salvaged, though," he tells me cheerfully, glancing out the window quickly and into the pitch-black darkness.

Despite my ever-present concerns, Edward was amazingly optimistic about the whole gruelling task that might be ahead of us; I found I quite liked it how he was being this way. It seemed to soothe me and all of the stresses I felt over everything.

"I can ask Carlisle about perhaps organizing me to work shifts at his work..." He continues softly. "Although, it won't be as much as he is getting as a doctor." He raises a hand, raking his fingers through his bronze, tousled hair, frowning as he thinks this through. "And we can easily survey the weekly newspapers for any cheap apartments up for lease."

I consider, nodding. "But it's easier said than done, ultimately."

He gives me a funny look of disbelief. "Yeah, but, it will take you – _what_? A week to find a job, considering how exceptionally bright and beautiful you are, love?" He shrugs as though it's nothing. "You have a good head on your shoulders, and that's all that matters in this world, frankly..."

"But so do you," I point out, smiling. "Don't you think your father will offer you a serious job if you ask him about it?"

"Me?" He raises his eyebrows, glancing over at me, looking at me as though I'm insane. "No, no serious jobs for me. To him, I'm abnormal..."

"You're not abnormal, Edward," I disagree strongly, shaking my head. "You'll never be abnormal. Besides, Carlisle knows what's happening now. He knows what you're going through – and accepts you – just like Esme and I do!"

He snorts derisively at my words, finding them humorous for some reason. "So Carlisle's informed now. It doesn't change anything." He shrugs and grimaces. "Why... why would Carlisle think of allowing me to work in the same practises that he does, while I remain like this?"

"Like what?"

"Mentally-ill, for one thing."

I sigh loudly in protest against his words, leaning my head back against the seat to stare at him. Why did he always have to talk about himself like that – in such negative terms? There were plenty of good things about Edward, things that he could offer the world... Even if he couldn't see them himself, or refused to see them.

"Can you even imagine what the orderlies and the nurses would think?" He continues softly, sceptical. "I mean, a mentally-ill person lecturing _other_ mentally-ill patients on their diagnoses? Wouldn't that even be the slightest bit contradictory?"

"No. Not at all."

"I think I should be locked up in a mental ward with the rest of them, especially after tonight." It was as though to him, working at the hospital was the most bizarre notion in the world.

"Well, let's get back onto the subject," I tell him sternly, trying to steer our conversation back to the current little predicament we were experiencing right now. "How would you feel... if the results were positive? Would you be happy?" I scrutinize his face anxiously for any giveaway sign into what he is truly thinking, but he seems too wrapped up on our previous topic right now. "_Sad_, maybe?"

His expression turns deadly serious as he thinks my question through for a second. "Well, of course, I'd be delighted if the results were positive, love," he tells me, looking over at me honestly as though he needs for me to understand this. "It would be unquestionably wonderful to feel the profound changes it would make to my life." He smiles widely and gives me a pointed glance. "And not to mention yours," he adds brightly.

I nod, opening my mouth to ask him another question, but then he quickly holds up a hand and so I let him continue.

"But then, in a way, it seems my... disease is passed on through genetics. I wouldn't want her – or _him_, even – to suffer the same fate." His expression turns bleak and grim as he thinks this possibility through. Of course, I hadn't ever thought of that happening. I hadn't even known if it would be possible to happen... "It would just be another tragedy."

He raises a hand and rubs his eyes.

"Still, Carlisle and Esme will be absurdly proud to have a grandchild so young..."

I could almost see it, through his eyes, the exultation on Esme's face if we had announced a pregnancy on them; I was almost certain Esme would be very understanding and excited by this – not to mention my mother, Renee, the look on her face.

"But, and I'm not saying this by fact - I'm only basing this wholly on assumption – but... I believe my real father took away his life because he couldn't deal with the stress my biological mother's disease brought onto him," Edward continues after a moment, breaking me out of my blissful thoughts, lowering his voice. "If that's truly the case, then what life would that be like for our child? It would be a... abomination."

_An abomination?_

We are both silent after that, but his words kept playing on and on in my head, cutting at me like the sharpest edge on a knife. I hadn't thought of the risks, if we had a child together... that Bipolar Disorder could in fact be passed down into her.

I found it instantly strange that I automatically assumed that our first child together would be a _her, _but then in Edward's letter, it seemed almost as if it was this kind of telling premonition that we would in fact be having a little girl in the future, if not now, if the results _did_ come out positive...

I was both excited and miserable.

In a few moments time, we would know for certain.


	39. Life Plans

_I own nothing at all to do with Twilight. All characters remain property of their respective author, Stephenie Meyers. Thank you all so so so much for your reviews, alerts, and favourites. I get so happy when I receive alerts from them, so thank you all so much. Hope you enjoy this chapter. So sorry it took me so long!_

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Waiting for the results was the hardest thing to do right now, I realized. I was beginning to get very impatient.

I didn't want to keep dwelling on about the possibility that what was going on inside of Edward could be hereditary. Even if it were the case, I didn't see how it would mess up the baby, unlike he did. But then, I realized just by simply looking at Edward, who is leaning quietly against the counter waiting along with me for the results, that I was incredibly excited about the prospect of having a baby: a baby girl, with bronze flowing hair dangling beneath her shoulders, that sort of looked like Edward, with very pale skin and those intense green eyes.

A small, cooing little baby that Edward would wrap protectively in his arms. Suddenly the future didn't seem as trying as it was currently, with everything we had been through. There was this optimism inside of me, this swelling hope that I was clinging onto, that despite the complications of having a baby; it would somehow mysteriously make our lives a lot less complicated, and stable.

It would be the motivation Edward needs to continue on with his treatment.

Motivation for the both of us to _really_ try and make this work.

I take a deep breath and look over at him. "Edward, if the results are positive... we have to really try," I tell him urgently. "We have to make things right. For the baby, I mean..."

He nods, smiling faintly. "I know, love."

"We have to make this work." I try to keep the pleading out of my voice, but it's without success. "We owe it to ourselves, either way. There's no turning back."

Edward takes me in his arms, and holds me tightly. "We can really do this, love. I know it'll be tough, but it'll be like a steep bridge," he murmurs into my hair. "Once we cross it, everything waiting for us on the other side will be magnificent, I promise you."

And I couldn't help but believe him.

I separated myself from Edward and turned my back on him.

Okay. Deep breath. Here it goes.

The swelling hope inside of my heart receded instantly as I studied the test: _Negative. _Great.

I felt my eyes brim with tears, but I didn't want Edward to see me reacting in this way over it. I wipe them quickly, before throwing the test in the trash and slowly turning to face him. He stares at me, looking slightly apprehensive, his green eyes scanning my face for any indication into what the results told me. I wondered what he could see there; would he be able to see the disappointment so transparent on my face?

He clears his throat. "Well, what's the prognosis, doctor?" he asks uncertainly.

"Negative," I tell him quietly.

He looks as stunned as I feel. "Oh." His face falls, but then he sees that I'm not exactly jumping for joy over this either. "And now you're unhappy?"

"I was just thinking... about how life could be. If we were young parents, I mean..."

He shrugs. "We've got all the time in the world though, love."

I force a smile at him. "I know we do." I had never quite seen myself as a young mother, but there was no denying I was starting to feel incomplete now that we knew the test was negative. But then, perhaps this was also a good thing. We could make for certain, with no added pressures like a baby on the way, that we were fully ready and in the right, safe and fitting environment, to have a baby in the future.

And that hope was something I found myself eagerly clinging onto.

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Life seemed to get a little bit better, after everything had happened between us.

A few weeks later, Edward and I began searching for a small apartment up for lease in the newspaper.

Irina was very enthusiastic over that, and I could tell she was dying to have some privacy around here without Edward and me interfering on a daily basis. But it wasn't exactly the guilt of staying at Irina's that was the highest motivator for me; I felt ready and prepared now, ready to start life with Edward, perhaps even start trying for a baby wilfully this time in the future, although no one else knew about our pregnancy scare except Edward and I...

In Irina's kitchen, in the early morning hours, Edward sets the day's addition of the newspaper on the table next to my elbow, searching through both the job classifieds and rental opportunities. "Well, love. There is quite a selection of apartments to choose from," he tells me as he sits next to me while I chew arduously on my cereal. "Choose one that takes your fancy, and we'll go together..."

I glare at him and he raises his eyebrows at me. "No fair, Edward."

"What's no fair?"

"You can't just leave me with this huge responsibility. Why don't you just pick one, and then we'll go from there?"

"Hmm." He runs his finger along the columns, searching. All the while I can't seem to stop looking at his handsome face while he is distracted. I lean over and peck his cheek, and then just as suddenly feel myself going as red as a beetroot as he looks over at me, most likely confused. I stare down at my cereal, playing with my spoon and then he nudges me gently with his elbow, causing me to meet his eyes. He grins at me beautifully, and I am unable to help myself and I grin back, feeling the ever-present turmoil of tingles in my stomach whenever I look at him and spend time with him.

I quickly found out that Edward and I had very different views when it came down to house-hunting. I walk through slowly, considering the small apartment, the many rooms, taking my time, whilst Edward walks directly through the rooms like a raging storm in human form, peering through the windows and out the backyard, opening cabinets and shaking his head.

Many of the realtors assumed Edward was some kind of lunatic. After a whole day of searching the open-houses displayed in the papers, we still hadn't found a small apartment that we agreed on, so I decided to ask Edward why his method of house-searching was so bizarre.

"I just have this specific vision, love," he had told me, smiling crookedly. "I see us in this beautiful three bedroom apartment, on a beautiful summer's day – which is very rare in Forks considering the weather, I know – but there's enough room, fitting for a small child, with safety locks and protective gates in the backyard."

I had burst out laughing, because it all seemed so silly to me. "What if we don't ever find a house that fits into our own separate mutual conclusion?"

He had looked sheepish. "Well, then. We'll just have to agree on something, love."

A week later, we had found a small, three bedroom apartment in the paper, just barely scraping the cheap side where costs are concerned. It was on the last corner of a secluded street, with white paint crackling against the veneers and brown, crinkled leaves in the garden.

"We'll take it," Edward said as soon as we entered through the doorway, tightening his hold on my hand and pulling me along with him.

The realtor was more than a little surprised. She glanced over at Edward sceptically, who was peering out the window, smiling widely at the sight of the minuscule garden unfolding before us. "Wouldn't you both like a tour around the house before deciding whether to rent it or not?"

Edward raised one eyebrow and met her eyes. "Oh, well. Has this house been guarded against asbestos and termites?"

The realtor lady nodded. "Yes, it has been. Very thoroughly."

"What about small children?" he asked her brightly. "Would you say it would make a suitable home for them?"

She gave the pair of us a funny look then. I knew what she was thinking in that instance; that we were too young to be parents. "Yes?"

"Then it's perfect," Edward assured her softly. Ignoring the woman, he put his arm around me, warming me, pulling me against him and kissed me, and I couldn't help but kiss him back despite being more than aware that this would only make things evolve into something more intimate between the pair of us. But then after, as Edward leaned away from me reluctantly, I realized the realtor had left us alone for some space and privacy anyway.

Thank goodness.

"So, if this is to be our apartment and home," Edward began softly, leading me gently into the next room as he ran his fingertips along the egg-yolk coloured walls of our new abode, "Wouldn't it be more appropriate if you were my wife?" He paused to spin around to look directly at my face.

I had stared at him, my mouth agape. I was more than a little stunned, and Edward knew it. Was Edward asking me to marry him? Right there and then as our new apartment enveloped us in?

Instead of answering, which I was most afraid of doing; I had kissed him and undid the buttons on his shirt. It seemed to capture his attention wonderfully, and his question – or proposal, if that's what it was – remained unanswered.

For now, at least.


	40. Honour

All things to do with Twilight belong to their respective owner. Thank you all so so so much for the sweet reviews. It means so much to me. If it wasn't for you kind, encouraging readers, I probably wouldn't have given up. I never expected to get this many reviews, ever, so it is such a shock! Thank you all_ so _much! Really hope this chapter is all right! :-) xx

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Finally.

We are living in our own, small apartment, silently content on knowing that there is in fact a future between the two of us. The removal van has only just left, after a well-built, burly older man helped carry half of Edward's old things into the apartment. It feels very cramped living here at present, with unpacked boxes lying in the hallway. But I couldn't be bothered unpacking things and setting up our home right now. I just mostly wanted to be with Edward, and spend time with him...

Setting up the apartment could wait a week or two, I decided.

I stand in the bathroom, barefoot and shivering underneath one of Edward's old shirts, while he is in the bedroom. And then the wonderful realization suddenly hits: we are living together now! No more having to be concerned about making Irina uncomfortable if we kiss or embrace intimately for a little longer, no more prying eyes... But most of all, no more worries – about _anything_!

Well, almost anything.

Edward had mentioned marriage. And while there was no denying that I was looking excitedly forward, to sharing a future with him, marriage didn't exactly come into the equation – at least not so soon after barely a few days of deciding on living together... - and so I was hesitant and scared to death of that prospect, more than anything else.

Instead of answering him right there and then, I had distracted him by pouncing on him and attacking him with kisses. My cheeks burn as I remember Edward being more than a little enthusiastic about making love despite the realtor being hardly a foot away. And it was an easy distraction, admittedly.

But I knew I could never keep him distracted from the subject long enough. While he hadn't brought the subject up again, I could tell it was still eating away at him. I brush my teeth, feeling a little guilty. I wondered if he was sleeping already in the next room, but then I heard no snoring coming from him.

I spit out the toothpaste and take the moment to peek into the other room. Nope. Definitely not sleeping.

I can see him lying on the bed, handsome as ever, and I watch him secretly as he puts up a hand to twirl a piece of his wild, chaotic hair around his finger, his forehead scrunched pensively. What is he thinking about? I wondered idly.

Marriage and all the nerve-wracking things that come along with it? Or maybe that was just me?

Edward didn't seem bothered or worried about the things that other people did, I realized then. But I found that I wouldn't want him any other way. At least while I was worrying, he was always... neutral, and indifferent. My worrying and his lack of concern over things seemed to complement each other perfectly, I found.

Edward watches me, smirking, as I slowly amble over to the bed in silence, shivering from the cold. I pause and stare at him. He looks amused. "Fancy seeing an amazing woman like yourself in this part of town. Do you come here often, or are you just visiting to join me and share my warmth in this tactful bed of mine?"

We smile widely at one another and I practically turn red.

I pull back the covers and slide into the bed with him, sighing at the amazing warmth. I lie in Edward's arms, eyes heavy-lidded and sleepy with contentment and warmth.

Edward inhales loudly. "Your feet are _absolutely_ cold, love."

"Sorry." I lean my cheek gently across his chest. My feet are cold about other things, too. Marriage, especially. But I couldn't tell Edward that, not now, when everything was so comfy and warm while I was in his strong arms.

"Oh, no," Edward mumbles against my hair, a second later, his voice hoarse and self-conscious

I peek up at him. "What's wrong?"

He sighs loudly, and turns his head away from me, wincing in embarrassment. "I... forgot, love."

I sit up, staring at him in confusion. "Forgot what?" I whisper.

"Just..." He pauses and reaches an arm over for something beside us. I instantly realize what he means by the sound of pills rattling against each other, being extracted from a bottle. _Oh! His medication!_ "Stupid," I hear him mumble underneath his breath, after he has swallowed them dry. He takes a long ragged breath as he lies back down and clutches my hips strongly in his hands.

I knew that this bothered Edward greatly. For whatever unfathomable reasons he had, I could tell he hated the very thought of having to take mediation in front of me, but it honestly never bothered me, so long as he remembered his dosage. I stare at him, feeling a little unsure on what to do or what to say, as he stares up at the ceiling, looking pained.

"Do you think the pills are helping?" I ask, worriedly.

Edward closes his eyes, and whispers, "I can't tell for certain."

I swallow. "Have you seen your therapist?" I am nervous. "Perhaps you could talk to him about going on some different medication... if not. Just for a try, I mean?"

He reopens his eyes at my words and looks down at me, and I am shocked by the difference in his face. Confidence; positivity; trust... _love_. It's as though something that was there before is now... gone.

"Bella, if I_ feel_ the need, I'll talk it through with my therapist. The least I want to do is to talk to you about all of this, I mean, I _already..._ feel like this tremendous piece of shit, so please..."

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and cover my face against Edward's shirt. I wished I had the ability to erase everything, all of this conversation, and start over in that instance. "Okay, Edward. I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"No, you're not." His voice is so quiet and low that I wasn't certain I even heard him.

I didn't want to argue with Edward, especially not when it was our first night of living together in our apartment, but I can't seem to help myself. "What are you_ talking_ about?"

"It_ doesn't _matter..." He pushes me out of the way and I am helpless before him, just watching him as he gets out of bed and starts gathering up a bundle of his clothes, panting heavily. "What matters is that there's _no life_ for me here, no future!"

"What are you -" I pause, trying to absorb what he is saying. I scramble out of the bed, desperate to reach out and touch him, to comfort him, to comfort myself because I don't understand a single, darn word he is saying.

I go to touch him, but he moves out of my range.

"Edward, what are you talking about?" I plead. "A moment ago, everything was fine and then now... What is happening here?" My voice trembles and rises.

He darts me a torturous look that tells me that everything we are fighting about here should be obvious. "I'm just... I'm trying to communicate openly and tell you what I want for us..." He shrugs and shakes his head. "And _you_, well, you're not listening..."

My whole body starts to shake and I think I know what's coming next. I start weeping, like some stupid girl, and I can't even seem to stop. "W-w-what do you want then, Edward?" I ask weakly. "B-because... I don't..." I falter, unable to say anything else to him right now.

Edward laughs shakily. "Yeah, well. I'm sorry." He turns away from me, and covers his eyes with a hand surreptitiously. "Listen, I'll see you later..." He gathers more of his things, his shoes and socks and I listen wearily as I hear him move down the hallway. He slams the door shut behind him.

Great. I sit on the floor in silence, waiting for Edward to return to me, for what seemed like hours. I still didn't quite know what we were arguing over, but I hoped he would come back to me soon.

My stomach aches and my eyes blur as I move around the empty, bare house, trying to distract myself while I wait for him. Why did things have to be so hard? Of course, moving in together would never make all these difficulties disappear, but I didn't envision it to be _this_ hard.

I decide to use Edward's laptop quickly. I plug it into the charger and sit on the floorboards in the hallway. Perhaps this was a deplorable, insensitive thing to do right now, but knowledge is power, as they say. Perhaps this would make me more aware of what Edward was going through...

I lean my elbows against my knees as I type in: _Bipolar Disorder:_

_Bipolar disorder can be like a roller-coaster ride, with exciting "highs" and very frightening downhill plunges. Both extremes threaten the patient's health and safety and may take a toll on their personal relationships, work, and even their grasp of reality. Bipolar disorder can be managed with treatment, but the patient needs plenty of support to stay on track._

I scroll down the page, feeling my heart swell up at all the various kinds of information on his disorder:

_Depression__: This phase of bipolar disorder can make the patient feel worthless, helpless, and hopeless. They may have trouble concentrating, lose interest in people and activities, complain of aches and pains, develop insomnia, or sleep more than usual yet feel fatigued._

_Mixed state__: Someone experiencing mania and depression together may feel sad and hopeless yet very energized. Suspect a mixed state if your patient has trouble sleeping, eats significantly more or less than usual, and has signs of agitation._

_Lithium__, a simple alkali metal that's similar to sodium, has been used for over 50 years to treat bipolar disorder. Often very effective at controlling mood, it has a narrow therapeutic range and can cause various adverse reactions..._

There are sites and sites with different information and it's enough to make me feel overwhelmed. Everything took a while to sink in. I was still too upset over our argument for anything to register properly. And then I hear the front door jiggle gently, as someone wields the key into the lock.

Edward. He's returned back!

Both fear and relief races through my body as he slowly enters the hallway. He exchanges an apologetic glance with me, obviously having calmed down from earlier now.

"I'm..." He stops, leaning against the wall and regarding me cautiously, like a little boy being caught out in his wrongdoing.

"What?"

Edward shakes his head and sighs loudly. "I don't know where to begin, but I suppose I'll have to start somewhere. It's just..." He stares at me. "When you were a little girl, didn't you ever... dream of a white wedding?" He raises an eyebrow at me questioningly and smiles ruefully.

I consider his words silently; I was _never_ that girl. The girl who lied in bed, dreaming of floating down the aisle in a bubble of happiness while her husband-to-be waits for her at the very end of the aisle, beautifully dressed in a tuxedo and exuding this overwhelming sense of exultation. But then, with Edward, I found I so easily could. Suddenly, the whole idea wasn't so frightening or arduous to envision.

He continues slowly and gently, as though afraid he is saying too much and that it will envitably scare me away from him, a faraway and distant look in his green, twinkling remorseful eyes. "A wedding with millions of people on the guest list, a beautiful white dress, and... an Elvis impersonator performing?"

He smiles crookedly at the last part and I feel my heart beating wildly in my chest. What is he saying? "I know I wouldn't be the most... ordinary of husbands and I don't want you to have to feel as though I'm pressuring you into this or that I'm holding you down in the future..." He adds quickly, talking faster and faster by the minute, as though desperate for me to understand, "If that's the case, if it gets too much... I'll let you go. Whatever's the healthiest option for you – I'll _always_ accept it wilfully..."

I didn't know why I was so surprised that he was bringing this up now, but I was. Was this the whole reason behind his aloof behaviour and our argument earlier?

He falls silent, waiting patiently for me to say something in return.

I try to pick my words with care, because I didn't want to upset him or make him think that I didn't want this. I did want to marry Edward, I realized then, but most definitely not _now_. "I'm not purposely avoiding the question, Edward. I just... kind of don't want to talk about marriage right now. Marriage is a serious thing, and I want to give it a lot of thought first, rather than it being some spur of the moment thing that we will regret later on."

Good one, Bella. Now you've done it.

He looks deeply offended and scoffs loudly at my words. "I would _never_ regret marrying you, Bella, because – for me, at least – I would never consider it a mistake in the first place, but the highest honour and privilege imaginable... to be your husband."

I could almost feel the excitement and bliss radiating off of him at his idea on being my husband in the future. It was suddenly devastatingly overwhelming, and I felt almost on the verge of tears in that instance, yet I wasn't quite sure why.

I dislike the thought of hurting him even more; it's something I found I hated doing the most, because I knew this would. I knew this would dissapoint him more than anything. More than the discovery of me not being pregnant, as we had days ago. But I felt it had to be done.

"I just think it's better if we wait..." I tell him, quietly. "Just a few years, Edward."

I could tell he was striving with great difficulty to digest this. For a moment he looked crestfallen, refusing to look at me, but then he smiled faintly. "I truly am sorry about before, love," he tells me softly and before I am able to contain myself, I dive straight into his arms and cry soundlessly into the collar of his shirt, in both relief and alarm over everything.

He wraps his arms around me, and I close my eyes. I lay my cheek against his shoulder and we stay like this for a very long time in the hallway, Edward stroking my hair and our bodies tightly pressed together.

"I _will _marry you, soon, in the future," I whisper against his neck reassuringly. "Please, let's just not fight like this _ever_ again!"

"I'm sorry, love." He leans down over me and presses his mouth against the top of my head.


	41. Old Wounds

All things with Twilight belong to their respectful owner Stephenie Meyer. The storyline belongs to me, however. Thank thank thank you all so much for your reviews and support. It still shocks me to this day! I feel like such a horrible writer half the time, trying to squeeze something readable out, so thank you all!

Really hope you enjoy this chapter and that it doesn't suck. Thanks again. I love you guys and am so appreciative :-) xx

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I decided to make a start on organizing and decorating our apartment.

With a slick, sheen of sweat on my face, I pull contents out of their boxes and rearrange things in the house. And then twenty minutes later, Edward comes bustling through the front door, hoisting a small television set underneath one of his arms.

"What is that? How did you even find enough money for a television?"

"I didn't. I traded in a few of my old things that I have no interest in using anymore for this," he explains as he sets the television on the small, dusty coffee table. "At least it'll seem more like an actual proper home now, with a television, love."

After what seemed like half an hour of watching Edward messing around with cords and fussing around with the various knobs, he switches it on. The colour is a little off, but it's better than nothing. He stands and peers over at me, dusting himself off. There is something there in his look, something that I can't read.

"How could I forget? I'm sorry, love. How rude of me."

I don't know what he is talking about. "What, Edward?"

But then, I immediately do as he snatches my hand and pulls me over to him. I wrap my arms around him and he kisses me. Ever since moving in together, I found that Edward absolutely loathed the thought of missing the chance to touch me or kiss me whenever he had the opportunity.

I loved it. It seemed to cheer me up and made everything all the more better between us. He kisses me one last time, tentatively and gently, before moving away from me and I resume what I was doing before, though slightly dizzy underneath the wave of his kiss.

"Why are you doing this now?" Edward asks, quite casually, watching me attentively as I rearrange the furniture a little.

I smile at him. "I just decided now is probably the best time. That way, there's not so much clutter. It'll ease the stress a bit around us."

He leans against the wall, regarding me with fervent wonder. "So, all of this, it's about me, love?" he asks with a knowing, breathtaking wide smile.

I laugh as I take a small step back and look over my work in appreciation. The lounge room still looks a little bare. A few essentials are missing, but the cheap television Edward had only just brought seemed to make up for it all. "Since when has_ everything_ been about you, Edward?" That was a lie, because there _was_ no denying I was doing this for him.

Everything I did now, it appeared it was all for him. I knew this would lessen the stress if our environment enclosing around us was clutter free and clean.

Oh crap. How could I forget? "Um, my mom called." My mom had called me while I was just setting up the apartment. I hadn't spoken to her in months sadly. I found I needed the break and distraction. Hearing her voice, it made me realize then how much I had missed her company. "She's coming down from Florida to see me," I begin, peeking over at Edward apprehensively, who looks dazed. "I'd like for you to meet her. I told her you would. Is that okay with you?"

He shrugs. "It's absolutely fine, but I can't guarantee that she will like me." He looks worried.

"Edward, she'll love you," I tell him reassuringly with a small smile. "Anyone I love, she loves, believe me. Her husband, Phil, is coming along, too."

"And what does this Phil do?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"The last time I heard, he was playing minor league baseball and coaching a team of children."

"Baseball?" He raises one eyebrow. "I can't say I know too much about baseball, love. Only that it's one of our countries favourite pastimes..."

I shrug, frowning. "You're not expected to know _everything_, Edward."

"Then what kind of boyfriends do they approve you being with?"

I take a deep breath, and burst out laughing breathlessly. "That's the thing, Edward. You _are _my first serious boyfriend, so I wouldn't know..."

"No one too scary, then." He meets my eyes and winks at me. I have to try to remember how to breathe. "But we all know, I'm a very scary, monstrous thing. Entirely dangerous, for you especially..."

I smile widely, and my face starts to hurt from smiling so hard. "Don't flatter yourself. There are _many _scarier people out there. You hardly make the exception!"

His eyes darken worrisomely. I try to run, but before I know it, Edward has caught me and he pulls me down onto the couch and leans over me. We are laughing and laughing together, and at last things seem slightly improved.

"I love you, I'm thrilled to be living with you, but I _want_ you to marry me," Edward pants urgently above me as he pins me to the couch. Every muscle in his body shifts as he holds me in place, forcing me to stay there and more importantly, not avoid the topic.

I feel my heart pounding in my chest as I try to catch my breath, our eyes locked together as we scrutinize each other's faces in silence. I clench my mouth tightly shut and Edward groans loudly in annoyance, and then buries his warm face into the crook of my neck. The stubble on his chin pricks me as it rubs against me.

"In a few years, love, like you said," he mutters resignedly after a moment into my neck.

I take his face between my hands and kiss him, admiring him even more in that instance for his patience and understanding over my request to wait.

* * *

I found I had no qualms about Edward meeting my mother. I was excited. He strolls on, leading me blissfully ahead through the crowd, wearing his blue baseball cap all the while. I couldn't help but grin like a wild animal, because I knew what this meant; Edward was trying his very hardest to impress them. Especially Phil, by wearing a baseball cap, despite knowing nothing whatsoever about baseball. I found it made me love him and appreciate him even more than I already did in that instance.

He glances over at me quickly and catches me smiling widely at him. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face? Or do I just look absolutely ridiculous right now, love?"

Ridiculous? The possibility of Edward ever looking ridiculous to me was very low.

I stretch up on tiptoes, and mess with the brim of his hat. "You're wearing that to impress them, aren't you?" I ask him, knowingly. He takes my hand and squeezes it tightly, and then we are both grinning at each other, like two insane, dopey kids.

He shrugs, all deliciously nonchalant. "I'm nothing if I'm not thorough, love."

"It looks good on you," I tell him, feeling my cheeks burning red, acutely embarrassed by admitting such a thing to him, but he didn't seem to care.

"Well, good. I'm glad you at least think so, love."

Through the clusters of oblivious passer-bys, I make out my mother standing there, while Phil is already sitting at the table outside the restaurant, preoccupied with reading the menu. She stretches up on tiptoes and waves at me. I grin at her and wave back.

Edward tenses next to me as he sees her, and pauses with his walking. I realize he looks petrified. He leans down and presses his mouth against my ear. "Bella, does she know?" He asks in a hushed, urgent whisper.

"Of course, Edward. I _did _tell her I had a boyfriend now."

He groans loudly and shakes his head, his eyes squinted in frustration. "No, that wasn't quite what I meant, love."

I am confused. I stare up at his handsome, anxious face, blinking. "Then what did you mean... 'does she know'?"

He turns and looks directly at me. "About my... disease, Bella."

I lean my head back, a little stunned. "No. I would never tell her," I assure him quickly. "If it makes you uncomfortable... but you can tell her... if you feel it necessary. I wouldn't mind, either way."

He seems to be a little less anxious over my confession. He starts slowly walking again toward my parents, a slight bounce to the way he walks. "No, I don't think I should tell them," he says after a moment in resignation, softly, cautious not to be overheard against the crowd.

I see my mother ahead, taking all of Edward in with her eyes, scanning the whole of his tall, lean body and most especially our hands, which are twined together and warm, and then she grins largely; I knew she would like him and approve, or at least find him... _sexy_. How could someone _not_ find Edward sexy?

Halfway toward my mother, she comes rushing over to me, breaking the distance between us once and for all. "Bella, sweetheart!" She flings her arms around my neck, but I couldn't quite return the hug completely; Edward was still holding onto my hand tightly. He refused to let go. He was clinging to me almost, in panic and fear and apprehension over meeting my dear mother.

She pulls away from me and looks up at Edward. "It's finally great to meet you at last," she tells him, and I watch Edward nervously.

He smiles, a nervous, small smile at her and extends his hand, the one that isn't clenching mine for dear life. "It's a pleasure to meet you likewise," he tells her gently. Mom shakes his hand. "I've always wanted to meet the creators of this wonderful, little loving specimen beside me..."

Mom looks a little stunned and gives me a funny look. "Yes, well. Come on over. You still have to meet Phil!"

She walks beside him, hooking her arm around his, and I hear her muttering to him excitedly. Mom was always a big talker. It was almost humorous, how different we were from one another, despite me being her flesh and blood. But it was becoming too hard for me to think a single, coherent thought. Not whilst Edward was gripping my hand so tight. I could feel it starting to go slightly numb.

When mom walks ahead of us to rejoin Phil, I nudge him with my elbow gently. He looks at me and expels a relieved breath of air. "See. She likes you already, so _quit _worrying and are you_ trying_ to break my hand?" He grins at me widely, though I could tell he was a little offended when I slithered my hand with difficulty out of his.

I had to clench and unclench my hand several times, to regain some feeling in my fingers. My hand starts to tingle.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm just overly anxious about all of this, I suppose. I'd hate for them not to like me, especially when I need you so much..." He tells me urgently as he shoves his hands into his jean pockets and bows his head, deep in thought, his bronzed hair falling against his forehead.

"Well, that's not possible," I say, oddly moved. "I need you, too. Now let's go talk to my step-dad and remember to not worry so much. If I love you, then there's no doubt in my mind that they'll love you, too!" I nudge him in the ribs playfully and he seems to lighten up. He chuckles softly.

Phil disregards peering at the menu and slaps it down onto the table. "Now, you must be Bella's new boyfriend?" he asks warmly. He hops up out of his seat to greet Edward, who stretches out a hand and shakes Phil's reluctantly. Phil instantly notices Edward's baseball cap and grins enthusiastically, beaming.

_Oh, no_. I knew what this would mean; Phil would be talking to Edward nonstop about baseball for the next three hours...

Phil barks out a laugh. "You a fan of the Yankee's or something?" He asks, jabbing a finger up at Edward's baseball cap.

"Uhm." Edward looks uncomfortable by the turn of their conversation. "I'm somewhat a fan, although I don't follow the games as much as I used to, sir. I have other things on my mind." Edward meets my eyes as he says this, and there's some hidden, burning emotion behind his that I cannot seem to identify.

I wring my hands nervously at his gaze, and then thankfully, he releases me, his eyes flitting down at one of the empty chairs at the table as Renee ushers us all to sit.

I sit next to Edward, because I knew that way I would be able to calm him, or more importantly intervene if mom or Phil asks him something trying. Edward takes my hand again, gently this time – I noted with gratitude – and pulls it into his lap.

Mom leans over in her chair toward Edward. "So, how long have you and my daughter been dating?"

I'm starting to feel nervous myself. There's a moment of silence where both Edward and I stare at each other, thinking it through. Oh, God. How long _have_ we been together now? I feel immediately guilty for not counting the months that had passed us so quickly by.

"I believe it has been, at least – what?" Edward looks at me again, thinking. "Uhm. Five months now, would you say, love?"

I just nod and stare down at our hands. Edward plays with my fingers and strokes them, probably trying to appease himself by doing so.

"Oh. So, where did you two meet, if you don't mind me asking?" Mom continues with her questions.

Edward laughs softly. "Well, I kidnapped your daughter." My eyes flit to his face, and for a moment I think I am going to choke, because it was true, in a way. "I saw her and I took her away and I told her: 'Doll face, you belong to me now', and we've been pretty much inseparable ever since..."

My mother bursts out laughing, a high-pitched sound that echoes slightly through the air. I smile at her, but then shudder. If only Mom knew how much truth there was to his story... But I hated going back there. It just brought back those unpleasant, dark memories when Edward was clearly at his worst... when the Bipolar and rage overtook him. Edward feels me shivering and looks over at me concernedly, his brows thick and troubled. I force a smile for him.

"No," Mom says through her giggles and fits of laughter. "What's the true story? What's the gossip, kids?"

"Bella and I obviously go to Forks High, so we met there," Edward tells her quietly after a moment. "I'm very fond of your daughter, perhaps insanely so..." My body feels hot. Finally this seems to do it; Mom falls silent, with no more awkward inquires on how we met.

Halfway through our hot, scalding coffees – well, I ordered a hot chocolate, because I had quite a low tolerance for caffeine – Mom motions silently with her hand for me to come for a walk with her. Edward gives me a pleading look as Phil dives deeper into his explanation on baseball, but I ignore him.

I walk with Mom slowly, in silence, trying to breathe calmly and deeply. I wondered what she was going to ask of me.

"Are things all right, sweetheart?" she asks, and she weaves her arm through mine so that we can walk together. I feel her eyes on my face, judging my expression openly. Mom always seemed to know what I was feeling, or whenever I was down. She just knew me so well. She raises a hand and pushes my hair gently back behind my earlobes. "I worry about you sometimes, you know. I heard about what happened with Charlie." I swallow against the thick lump in my throat at the mention of my father, and peek up at her. "Are you living with Edward now?"

"We've just moved into our own apartment," I admit to her hesitantly.

She smiles. "Ah. So things are moving pretty fast then for the both of you kids, huh?" She asks knowingly. I wondered how she could tell.

"How did you -" I begin, shaking my head in confusion, but she cuts me off, smiling even wider.

"You're my girl," she tells me in a sing-song voice, and it seemed to brighten the mood a little bit between us. "I'd be a terrible mother if I didn't know when things were concerning my own daughter, Bella! But you seem..." She pauses, giving me a funny look. "...you seem different. Like being with Edward has made you change into a different person!"

I shrug at her. "Nothing's changed. I mean, I'm still your Bella, mom..."

"I know, honey, and you'll always be my Bella." She pats my arm affectionately and I laugh quietly at her. "It's just..." She frowns at me and it got me frightened in that instance. What was she trying to tell me?

"What is it, mom?" I ask her urgently.

She sighs. "Maybe I'm being paranoid, but I feel as though there is something I'm missing. I wish you could somehow see how you react around Edward!"

"What? I react strangely around him?" I ask her in disbelief.

"No. It's just... I see that you compensate looking at other men by looking at Edward for a little longer, if you catch my drift?" I stare at her, hardly understanding a word she is saying, and I think she notices this, too. "Like you are_ trying_ to reassure him that he's the only male you want to be with..."

Oh. "Now I kind of get what you're saying," I tell her through laughter and she waves a hand at me dismissively. "I don't know. I suppose Edward gets a little insecure, Mom. Like _everybody_ does." I shrug.

"Hmm," she agrees after a moment. We stop walking and she turns to face me. "What's he like?"

I smile at her. How was I even meant to answer that?"

"You know, does he treat you right?" Mom persists, her eyebrows raised concernedly. "I just get this sense... this mother's intuition, you could call it, that you walk around eggshells while with him. Like you're very careful with what you say or what you do!"

I feel a little defensive at her words. "Edward's going through a tough time right now, Mom. He's... sick." It didn't feel right, confiding in her like this. I felt like a traitor to Edward by doing this. I glance behind my shoulder, back to where they're seated at the table. Edward's... gone. Phil is the only one seated at the table. Where did Edward go? I realize Mom is staring at me, her mouth agape. "I don't mean _sick_ as in something serious or life-threatening, Mom."

"Then what do you mean, honey?" she asks.

I was a little too distracted to answer her at first. I look around us, in a panic, searching for Edward. I had to keep telling myself to calm down, that he is probably just using the restrooms or something like that... but still, I couldn't stop worrying.

Once again, the traitorous feelings come back. Would Edward be angry if I told her this? Surely he shouldn't know if I tell my mother in confidence? And it would be wonderful to have someone to reveal this to, to get it off my back. I had been holding it in, bunched up in my stomach in a knot of unease, for too long. I was dying to let it out!

I lower my voice to nothing more than a whisper. "He just has a mental-illness, Mom."

She makes a face and I could tell she was trying her very hardest to understand. "What kind of mental-illness, Bella? Like anxiety or some form of depression?"

"No. Bipolar Disorder." It was amazing how light I felt as I said it out loud to my mother. She nods silently in understanding and then grimaces. "But, please, Mom – you _cannot_ tell Edward I told you that! He feels very bad about the whole thing, for some reason!"

She holds up a hand to me. "All right! _All right_, Bella! I'll keep my big trap shut!"

"Thank you," I breathe at her in relief.

She scowls at something behind us. "Stupid, Phil. He wants me over to talk to him!" She meets my eyes, and gives me a meaningful look. "Will you be all right for a moment? I don't know where Edward has gone, but he most definitely isn't with Phil anymore, sweetheart!"

"It's okay," I assure her gently. "Go, Mom. Go back to Phil! I'll find Edward!" She kisses my cheek and darts me an apologetic glance.

_Crap..._

I start looking around me for Edward. Usually, considering Edward is very tall, I would be able to see him in no time through the crowd. But I don't see him anywhere...

He'll be fine, I tell myself several times. He's probably just... doing something.

And then, through the crowd, I see him. He is standing by the wall, talking to a young... woman? My heart about plunges to the floor as I look at who he is talking to. She is tall, like him, and slender with long legs. She looks like a Bond girl, with long blond hair.

Any guy would have to be blind not to be able to see that she is devastatingly beautiful.

Yet the intimacy of their pose takes my breath away. She is reaching for his baseball cap, running her forefinger along the brim. I hear her erupt into sickening fits of high-pitched giggles through the loud noise of the crowd. And Edward, well, not surprisingly, he is responding to her and her beauty.

He leans in and kisses her.

I think my heart just dropped out of my stomach.

Wait a second. Is she..._ Tanya?_

I start to feel very nauseous and dizzy. Has she come back for him? I back away slowly, and then ram violently into someone behind me. They clutch my hips strongly in their hands to keep me on my feet and I stumble and knock against their shoes.

My head starts spinning. Everything is spinning around me. The walls move. Faces are blurred. Everything starts to turn black. I have succumbed to darkness. And this overwhelming, piercing sensation of loss and heartache and despair.


	42. Dream Starts Collapsing

**I own nothing to do with Twilight. I only wish I owned a cute guy like Rob Pattinson/Edward Cullen lol, like everyone else. Thank you all so so much for your reviews and support. It's so mind-blowing to know that people actually like my story. I appreciate it so much and hope I haven't let you all down with this chapter! I am so sorry if this chapter is really horrible and such a disappointment.**

**If there's anything I can do to make this story more appealing to you, please don't hesitate to PM me or hit me with some suggestions. I really hope this chapter isn't horrible, argh! Thanks so much for reading guys and for sticking with me! I appreciate your support so much! xx**

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* * *

**

_I slowly walk down the hallway of our small apartment. Numerous boxes are lying, unpacked, against the hardwood floor. I thought I already unpacked everything?_

_I hear a faint rustling noise coming from in the kitchen. I slowly follow the noises, until I hear a shimmer of voices, soft murmurings. At the very end of the hallway, I see a rim of light around the door. I go very slowly and quietly, on tiptoes, and look in. The refrigerator door is wide open, illuminating the surroundings, a very intense beam of light panning against the darkness surrounding everything around me._

_And then I finally see them. _

"_Oh, Edward. Just like that – _yes_!"_

_Our small kitchen is uncharacteristically chaotic. The counter and sink is littered with dirty dishes. But I am unable to tear my eyes away from the sight unravelling before me:_

_Edward's tongue is on her shoulders, her earlobes, her exposed, pale flesh. She spreads her legs and her hands pull him in between her as she lays splayed out against our dining room table, reaching blindly for his leather jacket and it falls away. Hands unbutton his jeans and she pulls them down._

"_Yes! Like this! She'll never have to know!"_

_Food and silverware, on the table, falls to the floor with a loud clatter as he bends over against her on the kitchen table._

"_I've waited for you for so long, Tanya," Edward pants against her neck._

_And then she sees me standing there as she looks past his shoulder, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire. "Shit, Edward -" She sits up in a hurry, and jumps off the kitchen table, gathering her bundle of clothes. She quickly covers herself up._

_Suddenly everything stops. All I hear is the sound of the clock ticking loudly. No more begging or moaning coming from her. Just silence... and the clock._

_And possibly the sound of my heart breaking._

I wake up gasping.

I reach out beside me, searching blindly underneath the warm sheets for Edward, but he's gone. I sit up slowly, clasping my arms around my knees, trying to both reassure and calm myself. But what I needed the most right now was for Edward to hold me in his arms, to kiss me and to tell me this was a misunderstanding of epic proportions.

But I couldn't even have that, not while he was gone, somewhere out there – I glance over at the illuminated, red numbers glowing on the alarm clock... – and not only that, but it's past midnight. Where could Edward possibly go at this hour of the night?

I begin to feel sick inside as I slowly wonder where he could be right now. Was he with _her_ right now? _Tanya_? Had she flown back into state so that they could continue what they had before?

_At least_ _the pair of them having sex on the table was only a dream_, I tell myself.

But then my mind instantly flits back to the beautiful blond girl, as it always seemed to do lately. Ever since fainting, Edward had been acting very distant toward me, strange almost. I never told him once about the reasons behind my fainting. He assumed it was the heat, the exhaustion and the nerves I must have felt over him meeting my mother, which had gotten to me and caused it to happen.

I tried my very hardest not to think that his aloofness was because of the girl, but I couldn't help thinking, just _thinking_...

I didn't know what to do about the whole situation. I wasn't sure if I should confront Edward, demand an explanation or not, or if I should get angry and upset with him... All I could seem to think about now was Edward kissing those lips of hers.

How could he do this to me after everything we had been through? I was trying my very hardest to be understanding here, and accepting of everything, and yet this was what he decided to do? Go against me in this way?

_No more wallowing over it, Bella_, I told myself right then and there, setting my jaw tight. _As soon as he comes home from wherever it is that he is, you will confront him and demand to know the truth!_

I slowly wait out in the other room. I tried to distract myself aimlessly, by reading, but it didn't quite work as well as I'd hoped.

I am shaking with apprehension as Edward finally arrives back in. He opens the door wide, and a gust of cold air makes it all the way into the hallway and blows over me. He's wearing his leather jacket – the very _same _jacket that this Tanya girl had practically ripped off of him in my dream, I noted then – and his face is flushed slightly from the cold. Of course, he still looks beautiful as ever before, despite his tousled hair being slightly wet from the rain outside.

"Where've you been?" I demand loudly, and he swivels around to look at me, his hands deep in his jacket pockets. "It's the middle of the night and it's raining outside!" I search his face for any trace or hint into his whereabouts. Of course, there's nothing.

He sighs. "I only went out for a walk, love. I couldn't sleep, so I didn't exactly want to wake you."

I cross my arms over my chest. That wasn't a good enough explanation for me. "Were you... with _her_?" I breathe out reluctantly. I didn't exactly want to know if he _was_ with her, partly because I knew what it would do to me if he revealed he was in fact with her at this hour of the night. I think I would... break.

He tries to muffle a snicker, but then sees that I'm serious. "With whom?"

"You _know _who, Edward." My voice comes out small and pleading. It sounded strange, even to me.

"Hmm. No, I don't, love." Amazingly enough, it sounds as though he is trying to suppress laughter. It cheered me to no end. Despite my obvious gloomy mood at him, he still smiles at me crookedly. It almost pushed me to breaking point. "Do you mean the old lady from across the street, our neighbour?" He raises an eyebrow in confusion. "Well, no. She was just passing through, love..."

"I need to know the truth, Edward."

He shifts uneasily and looks away from me for a second. "If I tell you the real reasons as to why I was out there, I'm afraid you might get angry." He looks at me earnestly and it was then that I could tell he genuinely was afraid of upsetting me by the trepidation in his voice.

"Just tell me, Edward," I plead quietly.

I try to brace myself for the worst, but like with everything to do with Edward, I was vastly beginning to realize that things never were quite what they seemed to be or turned out the way I expected them to. He hesitates and grimaces at me. "I couldn't sleep because of the medication, love. I would have been more than happy to lie awake all night and try to combat the insomnia by watching your beautiful face as you were sleeping, but then..." He pauses and looks extremely guilty.

"But then what, Edward?" I prompt eagerly. _But then he decided to go see Tanya and kiss her some more_? _What_? I have this sudden, startling urge to shake it out of him.

He walks closer toward me reluctantly, his green eyes gauging my face for my reaction, or probably any warning into if I was going to react dangerously and hurt him. "But then I decided to go outside and get some fresh air while I had a cigarette, love," he admits at last and I stare at his sheepish, handsome face, not daring to believe a single word.

I try to gather my wits. "You went outside in the rain... just so that you could have a _cigarette _without me knowing, Edward?" I repeat slowly, frowning in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes quickly, as though confessing to murdering our elderly neighbour's cat. "I know I told you I would quit, and I know it was childish of me to lie about it, especially to you, when you've been nothing but completely understanding and accepting of me, love."

I stare at him in silence, still not quite believing his story. Well, okay, he went outside for a cigarette. He didn't go off to see another girl – and that had me mildly relieved. But this still didn't explain _why_ he was kissing that blond girl, however.

"But when we were seeing my Mom, you left the table early with Phil all alone -" I begin hesitantly, but he cuts me off.

"I went off to use the restrooms, love," he tells me quickly. "And then, I might have hid away, out of sight from you all, and had a cigarette or two while you were talking with your mother." He smiles at me apologetically.

"Not only that," I continue once he has finished his irrelevant explanation. I could feel the dread pulsating through my body as I mentioned it to him out loud, "But I _saw_ you kissing another girl over by the wall, Edward..."

He darts me a look, both incredulous and full of mirth. "Bella, I was standing right behind you when you fainted, love. You tripped over my shoes and I had to catch you - you almost hit the concrete, and gave yourself a concussion!"

"No, it_ was_ you," I object, shaking my head. "Tanya was playing with your baseball cap and you kissed -" My voice trails off as I think it through very hard...

I remember he was wearing a cap exactly like the one Edward had purchased. He was tall... but then again I didn't exactly see his face clearly over the crowd. I remember stumbling, losing my footing, tripping over someone's shoes... two hands had clutched strongly at my waist to prevent me from hitting the concrete. But could it have truly been Edward - like he said?

After all, he had given me no reasons to assume that he would ever be unfaithful to me. Perhaps the dream I had tonight was only simply a projection of my own insecurities and fears of what happened, of Edward leaving me for Tanya, and perhaps it didn't mean anything after all. _Oh!_ Feelings of stupidity instantly flood through me. _How could I have been so stupid_?

I peek up at Edward, who is watching me patiently as I try to absorb all of this. But there's something there in his expression. Suddenly his impassive face breaks out into anger, tears almost. It scared me. "Tanya?" he repeats her name softly, wistfully, and his face falls as he speaks the small name out loud. "Bella, that's not possible. Tanya's long gone now, love. She's dead. She's never coming back. I killed her."


	43. Let It Be Quick

Thank you all so so much for your reviews, alerts, and favourites. Your faithful support has meant so much to me, and I appreciate it so much. I am forever grateful and I am really sorry for taking so long to update on a new chapter! Hoping you will forgive me!

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**EPOV:**

I am a coward. That is all I'll ever be, there was no use pretending that I'm not...

A better man would take Bella by the shoulders and say, Love, I'm so sorry that I've let this go on for too long. Let us accept that you will never be happy with me, and let's move on. But I know that Bella would never accept, that she would always be holding on.

I had to man up and do it myself. I had to leave.

We couldn't continue going on like this any longer, we just couldn't.

And I wouldn't let us, even though it felt it would kill me inside to do it.

But I had loved Tanya just as much, and I had gotten over her with some time. Time heals all wounds. Of course, Tanya had taken herself away from me. Bella was still very much here. There was only one option I could do to make sure Bella didn't follow Tanya's course, in the end.

I had to take myself away from her.

* * *

Bella is lying asleep in the bedroom on our bed, exhausted from our fight from earlier.

The lamp on the bedside table is still on, and it throws a pool of light around her, but her face is in shadow; her dark hair is fanned out underneath her. I can see enough of her to make out that she had tears streaming down her cheeks, evidence that she is still angry with me.

I screamed the words out inside my skull as I looked over her – it was all that I could seem to do.

_Bella, I love you__ more than anything_. _You know I do._ _But I won't be able to make you happy__ in the long run__._

As I stare at her, I remember everything that happened to us before all of this had happened. I remember watching Bella secretly from across the school cafeteria, taken by her. She didn't even know me then, but she knew I existed. She had noticed me in gym class. Then again, she had hit me in the face with a volleyball. The incident itself was a little hard to ignore.

Then I remember storming in on Bella in the girls restrooms. The look on her face, the pure bewilderment. Bella's shoulders shaking, the blood on her neck, the coppery taste in my mouth as I tasted her for the first time. And then the way I had tied her to the steering wheel of my car as I drove us all the way to Las Vegas. The way her shoulders kept on trembling, the way her dark hair fell limp across her face as she wept…

Those were the days of insanity. Pure madness.

Those days very nearly outweighed the good.

But then I think of Bella telling me that she may have been pregnant. I think of Bella telling me that she did want to marry me, but to just give it time. A few years, she asks for. I remember her asking what I would think if she'd told me that she loved me. Those moments had me bursting with joy.

But they just weren't enough. What else was there left to come?

I realize that tears are coursing down my cheeks. I wipe the sleeves of my leather jacket across my face, and force myself to press on.

All I take with me is a set of clean clothes. I didn't need much for where I was heading.

As I start my car and drive out of the apartment parking lot, sadness overcomes me. As well as relief.

I am relieved to know that me forcing Bella out of this mess has become Bella's lifeboat. Eventually she would move on, forget about me… find someone who would never hurt her. She would find someone on the same level as her, someone who didn't switch off and on like a light bulb whenever things got a little out of hand.

_When I was giving a reprieve as good as the one Bella was getting, it was best to remember just how thin it might be._

I pull open the latch on the glove compartment, just to make for certain she's still in there. I rummage around for a bit, searching underneath papers, until I find her.

I pull her out and set her carefully between my legs. Then I start searching for a place to pull the car over, a private driveway perhaps. Somewhere no one would ever think of looking. Well, at leasst it would take them a day or two, at the very least, to find me.

I eventually find the perfect place to park. A long, quiet and deserted road that seems to head nowhere.

I park on the side near a tree, and then spend the next several minutes preparing myself.

_Bella, __God, __I love you_. _Thank you for everything. Our time together has been the only thread through this bleak labyrinth, the only real thing in this pathetic life of mine, the only thing keeping me holding on. But I feel it's all coming to a sad and tragic end. But then everything has to end, doesn't it? There is no way to stop time or prevent it from eventually happening. I realized this tonight, how this is all affecting you. It's too much. It's not your burden to take, nor was it Tanya's. _

_This is just the way it's got to be. I can't go on like this anymore, and I don't want you to have to either._

I wasn't going to talk myself out of it now. It had to be this way; it just had to be…

No ifs or buts about it. This was it.

As I pray for Bella to have the happiest life without me, panting and gasping, I open my mouth wide and slip the handgun's nozzle in, pushing it right through to the very back of my throat.

_Let it be quick._


	44. Plans for Princess Bella

Thanks so much for your reviews and support, favourites and alerts. It means so much to me and always will! I always look forward to hearing from you all; I love your amazing insights. Well, considering the last chapter ended quite on an extreme note, I knew I couldn't keep you all waiting for too long. It was cruel enough that I left Edward in such a state, so I'm sorry. Again, thank you all so much. I am truly honoured to find that you are all still sticking with me.

I promise I will pick up on the story and make the updates once again a regular occurrence until the stories final conclusion. Not too long to go now :)

* * *

_Weakling, you're such a tragic weakling, _a voice in my head kept taunting at me over and over as I carried my small amount of things over to the service desk.

The young lady behind the counter looked almost alarmed to see me, as though I was this monstrous sight to be seen. My eyes felt agonizingly heavy due to lack of sleep and possibly from crying too much when I was in my car. My leather jacket, jeans and sneakers were also completely soaked from the rain, and I couldn't stop shivering for the life of me.

I had picked probably one of the worst evenings that Forks had ever had weather-wise, to be acting so immaturely like this. But funnily enough, the weather seemed to suit my bleak mood perfectly. The rain kept pouring down in wild sheets, the sub-zero wind gusty, as I rushed into some decrepit cheap motel that I'd found a mile away from where I'd parked, desperate for cover.

Ideally I should have returned back home to our apartment, exactly where Bella was, probably still sleeping and warm underneath the covers of our bed. I just felt too glum at the idea of facing her right now, especially after what I had just tried to do...

I hadn't even really been thinking. Pulling a gun on myself had been something done out of some whim. Half an hour ago, I had felt past all hope for the future.

Now I just felt like a complete stupid shit. What the hell was I doing? Of course, I was only thinking of Bella's happiness. But really, I hadn't thought it through enough. I had entered her life and changed it beyond repair, so much so that she had surfaced feelings for me. She said she loved me… she said she would want to marry me in the future, maybe in a few years' time. And then what was I doing? I was sitting in my car, feeling sorry for myself like an idiot.

Through the woeful silence and the second after I had shoved that gun halfway to my throat, almost choking on it, I'd realized that this most definitely wouldn't have made Bella any happier if I'd just shot myself right then and there. No, it would have made her sad.

I got to thinking darkly about Bella there on an early morning, tears running down her cheeks as she placed various flowers on my tombstone. Would killing myself really have made her any happier in the long run? No, it would just leave her with inconsolable anger at me, and guilt, and aching regrets.

Could I have acted anymore recklessly than I just did?

Sure, I had treated her wrong in the past eight months. But the least I could do was to make sure I was still there with her, that I somehow tried with all my strength to make it up to her.

I couldn't leave her, I realized as soon as I had let the gun slip through my shaking hands. I vowed then that if I wasn't strong enough to leave her, then I would stay and focus all my effort and energy into making our lives better together.

Who knows? Perhaps one day she would wake up next to me, common-sense prevailing, and realize this wasn't what she wanted at all, that she had made the biggest mistake in sticking with me. That she would finally put her happiness before my own… It was the only hope I could cling onto, and I clung onto it with sheer desperation.

I gave the girl behind the counter my details then asked her if I could use a payphone for a second. She showed me the way to one in the corner of the room, and I spent nearly a minute delving through my leather jacket pockets for any loose change. I finally found some quarters, then dialled Bella's cell phone number, which I had learnt from heart ever since the very first day she had given it to me.

The phone rang out for several minutes.

* * *

**BPOV:**

"_Christ, Bells," my father Charlie grumbles, his eyes nearly bulging out as he studied me at arm's length. "I never knew you could look so beautiful."_

_I took a deep, shaky breath as I clung onto his arm for dear life, feeling myself blushing. "Thanks, dad."_

_I felt so sick with nerves. Most of all, I just didn't want to go tripping headfirst in my dress as Charlie slowly veered me along down the alter. My eyes budged out of their sockets in surprise at the number of people present in the church._

_My eyes scanned the room until they had finally found my mother. I was surprised that she had taken the time to fly all the way down from Florida. She was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, her body hunched over in sobbing. But they were happy tears, I was sure of it._

_Then, my eyes found Alice and Rosalie, who to my astonishment had actually agreed to be my bridesmaids. My blurry eyes focused on Alice, the shorter of the two. She smiled at me, and it struck me that she looked sincerely happy for me. There was no more awkwardness between the two of us, no more unpleasantness over the fact that I had actually agreed to marry Edward… going against her proud protests at school on how much she disliked him._

_Wait- marrying Edward? _

_Sure enough, my eyes found him at the alter and I had to remember how to breathe. I focused on my breathing, counting the breaths as they slowly filled my lungs. I felt Charlie squeezing my arm tightly several times in comfort, I guessed._

_Edward looked amazing in his black tuxedo. His face filled my vision and I was suddenly overcome with pure happiness. Joyfulness was radiating from every inch of him, exactly like the warmth of the sun against your skin on a clear, sunny day. His green eyes were shining brightly with excitement as he looked back at me, and he was grinning widely._

_The insides of my chest were suddenly aching with the joy that was exhibited on his face, and I felt the sudden urge to go sprinting down the aisle just to meet him._

A sudden vibrating noise broke out against the backdrops of my dream, and I toss and cover my ears, desperate not to lose the pleasing vision of Edward looking so overwhelmed with happiness...

_Edward turns to face me and looks down at me, swallowing nervously. "I, Edward, take you, Isabella, blissfully to be my wife. I promise to love you from this day on forward, to be true to you in both bad times and good, in sickness and health. I will love you, honour you, and cherish you for the rest of my life." His voice trembles and his shoulders hunch forward slightly, tears rolling down his cheeks as he looks into my eyes with such intensity that it overwhelmed me. _

_I started to repeat the promise to him, my voice trembling as well and coming out as low as a whisper. _But then- suddenly and without my consent- my eyes flew open to the incessant sound of my phone buzzing.

I groan and roll over on my side, reaching to pick it up from the bedside drawer right next to me. My eyes and cheeks feel wet, and I recognize then that I must have been crying from the absolute happiness of my dream.

Wiping my eyes, it dawned on me then that marrying Edward actually wasn't such a frightening notion, after all. I would have happily taken the good with the bad any day of the week.

Blinking heavily to regain focus through my watery eyes, I peer down at my phone.

It was an unknown number calling.

_Huh?_

* * *

"Hello?" Bella's voice is thick with sleep. I peer down my watch in horror, cringing. It's 2.30 in the morning.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Have I woken you?"

Still, I'd never felt as thankful in my entire life to hear her voice than I was right now.

"Yeah, it's fine, though." She yawns loudly. "Where are you?"

My stomach clenches. I just knew she would be asking me that, sooner or later.

"The funny thing is, love, that I'm at a motel hardly a mile away from our apartment. I just… needed some time alone for a while. A little time to think…"

"Oh." She sounds both surprised and worried. I couldn't exactly blame her.

Perhaps I was being selfish or foolish for keeping away for the night? But I wasn't exactly ready to face her just yet. Not when I had just almost tried to kill myself in my car, stupidly out of some unplanned whim.

I catch the young girl over at the reception table wave her hands at me through the corner of my eye, and glance over at her for a second. She gives me the thumbs up, clearly signalling to me that she's finally found me a room to stay in for the night. I give her long thankful look, then turn on the spot, resting my shoulder against the inside of the phone booth, focusing my full attention back onto Bella, who is silent and still on the other line, waiting.

I let out a long breath of air. "Listen, love. I'll call you again tomorrow morning. I'll let you get back to sleep."

I was torn in that instance; I madly wanted to gather my things and come rushing back home to her. I loathed the thought of Bella sleeping alone. I longed to be with her, to hold her in my arms, to feel her warmth against me, to apologize and swear to her that everything was going to be okay, that I was an idiot for what I'd just done…

But another part of me sincerely desired the time to be alone, just to reflect on all of this madness that had broken out between us.

When she eventually spoke again, her voice was a throaty, relieved sigh on the other end. "Um, okay…" She sounded a little uncertain. "Call me first thing tomorrow then, okay?"

"Of course I will," I promise fervently.

Another instance of silence passed us by, where she was probably wondering if she should end the call. I refused to end it; I wasn't going to be the first one to hang up on her, I just couldn't…so I waited.

"Okay, um, I love you…" she whispers quietly, and I couldn't help but smile to myself at her words, despite feeling so guilty and miserable inside for having about to leave her in our apartment alone.

Her telling me that she loved me, in the face of our argument barely four hours ago, made me feel warmed up inside. Although I felt I was freezing my ass off from the cold Forks conditions, I felt just as if I was melting inside.

"I love you, too," I tell her, but that word just wasn't enough.

What I really wanted to say to her was: _I love you so much it kills me inside to know __that__ I cannot even find the courage__ to leave you__ because of it__.__ I tried to do it tonight, but I just couldn't… I want to make you happy more than anything else in the world, and I know the only way to truly make that happen is to leave, yet I can't do it. I just can't live without you… yet I can't live with you. The two are completely irreparable differences._

"Edward?" Bella's croaky voice tears me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, love?"

"Be safe." There was something in her voice, something meaningful that I couldn't seem to comprehend. But after what I'd just experienced, I found I needed her encouragement more than anything.

I promised I would, then waited patiently for her to hang up. When she did, I went back over to girl behind the counter. I followed her as she took me up to my small room and then as she left me alone, closing the door quietly behind her, I spent what seemed like hours pacing back and forth between the narrow space between the single bed and the wall.

Eventually, I lit a cigarette and managed to pull open the window adjacent to the bed. I stared outside into the darkness, past the silvery pellets of rain as circles of smoke enveloped around me.

I'd never felt so thankful to still be alive, to still be able to hear Bella's voice on the phone. Sitting on the end of the small bed and lighting another cigarette as the first one slowly ran out, I made up my mind on what I was going to do- what I _had_ to do.

I would now focus all my time and energy into making Bella's shared life with me the best she has ever had. I would never make her regret a single day in her life for choosing to be with me.

I would start by waking early tomorrow morning and driving back to our apartment. Then I would sneak in and make her eggs and toast for breakfast while she was sleeping, then I'd carry it into her room on a tray for her. Sure I wasn't exactly the best cook in the world, but as they say, it was the thought that counts.

Then I vowed I would try to get a job, to gain some steady income so that I could buy her nice, pretty things. Not that Bella cared about the material things in life… but I would make sure that I took care of her and splurged on her every once in a while when I could afford to.

_Starting tomorrow..._

It's ironic how when you're ready and willing to knock on death's door, something causes you to smell the roses and realize that life is somehow better worth living fully and meaningfully while you have the chance.

I was going to treat Bella as though she was a princess, considering I already knew she was the best thing to ever happen to me. Her eightenth birthday was also a month away, and her birth into this world was something to be celebrated, and massively so. At least in my eyes, anyway.

_She has no idea what she is in for._

I spent half the night deliberating on how I could make her birthday almost a fanfare production. I conjured many countless ways in my head, until finally I felt so exhausted inside that sleep became unavoidable.

I pulled back the covers of the small bed and slipped inside. I instantly missed Bella's warmth, the way she nestled her way against me, the way I'd wrap my arms around her... I found myself still too strung-out to sleep. The thought of Bella sleeping alone wouldn't seem to leave me in peace.


	45. Naked As We Came

**I own nothing to do with Twilight and NEVER will. S.M does- clearly ;)**

**I want to thank you all for your amazing support, and for reading my story. Your reviews, alerts, favorites, etc. I can honestly say, YOU are the reason why I kept on writing this story in the first place. You all amaze me so much and I will be forever thankful. I know Bella and Edward have had a whole lot of drama in this story, and I did promise a HEA. So hopefully, this will be the fitting conclusion. Kind of sad to actually be completing this story.**

**Again, I thank you all so much for going along on this journey with me. I tried to throw in a lemon for measure, even though its probably crappy ;) Hope you enjoy though, and please let me know what you think. Was this an okay, satisfying ending for you? Of course, there stil will be some hardship in their lives realistically, but I wanted to make the ending as happy as possible. I apologize if the story was really confusing- I'm still doubting myself as a FF writer and am basically still learning how to roll with it. I thank you all so much, you guys are amazing and I'm so humbled!**

**Love you guys- CKXXX**

* * *

_Epilogue_

_BPOV_

"You can't blame yourself for Tanya's death, Edward. Whatever happened, it was her choice."

He sniffs loudly. "Thank you, love. For saying that. I think I needed to hear it from somebody, to give myself the closure I needed to let her go. It means a lot to me to hear you say that." He gives me a smile, a little reluctantly.

"Come here," I say quietly while leaning up against the mattress on my knees, opening my arms widely for him.

And he does.

As he wraps his arms around my waist, he looks me deeply in the eyes. Now that he has returned home from whatever motel it was he was staying in for the night last night, this amazing sense of relief overcomes me. He is safe, here in my arms. I suddenly feel this staggering need for him, this longing for him to touch me. For his bare skin to be all over me, enclosing around me, naked as we came.

Teetering on my knees, I lean upwards and kiss him, tentatively. A small kiss, a nervous kiss. His lips touch mine in return, anxious and uncertain. Then I lean back against the balls of my feet, to look him in the eyes.

_I want you._

_I need you._

_For as long as we have. For as long as you'll want me..._

I run my hands down the opening of his leather jacket, fingernails scraping against the buttons on his flannel shirt, giving him a hard, long look with my eyes.

"Do you want me?" He asks uncertainly, his voice hoarse and cracking with emotion.

I have to fold my lips together against the smile that was threatening to form over his question. _Did I want him? Oh, yes!_

But not quite yet...

Still looking into his eyes, I lift my hands and let them cup the sides of his face between them. His eyes flutter closed, his impossibly long, black eyelashes flittering beneath his eyelids with the movement, and I hear him give out the smallest of a wistful sigh, over my touching of his face.

To my dismay, I note the faint lines underneath his eyes. It's obvious to me that he hasn't slept well last night, perhaps from dwelling over our ridiculous argument.

"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions and accusing you of cheating. And, I'm sorry for having this make you bring Tanya and her suicide up into the conversation. But you can't keep on blaming yourself over this." I place my hands over his warm ears, run my hands gently through his hair. I feel him tremble against me. And... I want you to know, that you don't always have to keep things deeply hidden inside your head, away from me," I continue, desperately. "Whatever it is troubling you, I want you to tell me, so that we can get through this together."

I lean forward, and brush my lips softly against each of his eyelids.

_I want to kiss away his troubles..._

_Kiss away all of his pain._

"Bella." His voice is a low whine. It makes my heart feel as if it is swelling up with love in that instance. Love and wanting to comfort.

"This is how relationships are meant to work." I kiss his pale, stubble-scratchy cheeks. "We have to communicate and tell each other what's going on inside of our heads. I need you to trust me enough to tell me whatever it is you feel, or need. I won't judge; I'm only here to offer a listening ear. I promise you! Otherwise, I don't think this will ever work between-"

"- Don't say it."

Before I know it, Edward's hands fling up from my waist, and both are grasping my face tightly between them. He kisses me; a strong, demanding kiss that leaves me breathless, like never before.

While gasping for air between his fast, rough moving lips, I shove his leather jacket from his broad shoulders and tug it halfway to his arms, then make a speedy start on the buttons of his shirt. My fingers are fumbling to fling them undone and are not yielding into what I am wanting quick enough. I cry out in frustrated desperation against his mouth.

_God damn it! Stupid buttons!_

But then, finally, but not soon enough, I manage to fling his shirt open. I pull the shirt-tail free of his trousers, then pull the latch open on his belt briskly. I start pushing down his jeans, then slid my fingers into his briefs. I gasp against his mouth, my fingers tracing along his warm, long, hard erection, to the very tip.

He gives out a deep cry against my mouth in response. It made my blood spike up and rush with adrenaline and excitement. His hands take a new action of course; his hands going behind my back, underneath my shirt, fingernails tracing roughly up the curvature of my spine and meeting where the thin straps of my bra began.

My skin felt all goosepimply, yet blistering, underneath his firm, rough touch.

"I missed you when you were gone," I whisper urgently against his lips, feeling as if I am on the verge of crying, my throat dry and tight. "I was so unbelievably relieved when you called, even when you did interrupt me from my dreaming of us."

His lips start a slow, halting rhythm against mine, then suddenly, he pulls his head back to meet my eyes. The look in his eyes, I wasn't lying, kind of turned me on; Shining wildly both in excitement and mischeviousness.

"I interrupted you, did I?" He pants out roughly. "Just what were you dreaming of- concerning _us_?"

I feel my cheeks flame over his question, and feel my heart beat a little faster, while one of his hands work to unclasp the clip on my bra.

"It was our wedding day, and I was walking down the aisle with my father to meet you," I blab without thinking.

"Really?" He sounds merely... amused. "You were dreaming of us getting married last night?"

"Yes," I answer promptly, past all embarrassment now.

My bra makes a loud noise as his hand finally works out the mechanics on how to remove the darned thing. Who knew bras could be such a hindrance at a needy time like this?

"Tell me about it," he invites quietly, peeling my shirt up.

I raise my arms and let him take the lead, removing it from my body, as well as my bra. Then, ungracefully, I'm there, leaning on my bare knees, with my breasts and stomach showing, all for his eyes to see. Even though we've had sex probably around three, or four times already, I still felt irksome and uncomfortable with my body in front of him.

I felt so clumsy, plain and inept, half of the time. Especially in comparision to his body.

His eyes flit down to my chest unapologetically, and they stay there for what seems a lifetime.

"Your turn," I say, trying to sound angry. "Lose the shirt right now!"

He laughs shakily, and does as I say without a word. He tosses his leather jacket, barely an inch past my head, onto the floor on the opposite side of the mattress, then shrugs out of his shirt hastily.

I stare unapologetically in return, wide-eyed and out of breath.

I don't think I could ever get used to seeing Edward without a shirt on. And, to show my appreciation, I stroke his chest, the curly patch of hair there, then pinch his flat nipples, hard. He grunts, a little in both pain and shock.

Maybe for payback, his hand went behind my neck, and he squeezed it between his fingers roughly.

"Tell me about your dream," he repeats, his voice a dangerously low, playful growl.

"Well, like I said, I was walking arm-in-arm with Charlie down the aisle, and you were there waiting." I pause, a gasp of surprise slipping between my lips as one of his hands encircle around one of my small breasts, giving it a squeeze tenderly, almost reverently. "You were, um..." His warm, unrelentless fingers running up my thighs roughly. "Wearing a tuxedo and you looked... amazing."

_Oh God. What is he doing to me?_

He places a jeaned knee on the mattress, right between my thighs and pushes _up_.

"Oh," I gasp breathlessly, losing all responsible focus. "That feels quite good."

"You were saying?" he prompts with a grin.

It takes me several breaths to regain my focus. "Uhm, well... I was saying, how good you looked in a tuxedo." I was losing my concentration, my voice ragged and shaking, as he bent his head down, his warm lips tracing the outline of my throat. "And my, uhm... well, then we were saying our vows and... it was, uh, beautiful."

"Does this mean you are reconsidering what you said about waiting a few years?" He breathes against my throat hotly, amusement lurking in his tone.

"Um, I...I..." I stammer, feeling my cheeks redden yet again over the sudden incoherency he was bringing out of me.

"Is that a yes?" He chuckles against my throat, the movement vibrating through his lips onto my neck.

"Um... I, uh..."

"Or a no?" He finishes, kissing the hollow on my throat once more.

"I, um, I don't know yet," I say shyly. "Even though it kind of terrifies me a little bit, it _was_ a beautiful dream."

"I think you might need a little more convincing, but I think we've got all day," he whispers huskily, then unable to help myself, I jerked as his hands tugged down my shorts forcefully. His eyes then looked down at my V as if it were calling to him with such aching desperation. "There isn't anything I wouldn't do to convince you to marry me, Bella. I know we've been through a lot of hardships and drama throughout these eight months- even more so than the regular person, possibly..."

I look up at him questioningly.

"But, you give me reason to live. You make my life better, in a way that I never assumed possible. I never once thought it possible a girl could love me while I'm like this... especially after _all the things_ I've put you through."

I take his shoulders in my hands, and nod slowly. "I know it will take a lot of work. But I'm willing enough to go through all of this with you. _Whatever_ happens, where ever we end up, whether together or not... I will always be here for you. Because what we have here, I believe it's worth fighting for."

"Yes, I believe we do, too." He smiles down at me, a little ruefully. "I promise to try harder to make this work. I promise to try keep myself stable, and that I'll follow through with treatment, until the end."

_That._

That was all I needed to hear; that the two of us would be in this together, that we would both work hard for some normalcy in our relationship to make this work.

"Thank you. It was exactly what I needed to hear." I wrap my arms around him, resting my cheek against his warm shoulder.

He lay me down as we were onto the mattress, my legs locked around his waist, my head leaning on his shoulder.

For half a minute, he lay there on top of me, looking down at me with a soft, gentle expression, as though I was the most beautiful girl in the world to him. Really, he was the most beautiful thing to me, Bipolar and all. Beautiful and scary, all at the same time. I tried to give him the look back with my eyes, but the both of us started to grin, neither able to keep a straight face.

Then, he moves his hands in front of him and slowly undresses of his trousers.

I held my breath, biting my lip, while I stared up at him.

Though it was a great pleasure watching him undress for me and see him naked in the flesh, especially after sleeping alone last evening, I still felt the same pricklings of anxiousness tensing my back and neck muscles over what we were about to do; I thought I would get used to doing this with Edward, but something told me it wasn't something you got used to easy because, each and every time, the experience was as different as the last.

"I need to feel you," I confess, at last. My voice came out barely audible.

"Don't worry, love. I don't plan on leaving this bed anytime soon." He smirks down at me, sending me wet in all the right places.

His hands begin drifting urgently; up along my thighs, the back of my shoulder blades, everywhere. I loved the feeling of his calloused and rough, yet gentle, hands moulding into me. Being apart for one day even, made me realize how much so I miss being _with_ him.

His hand touches the mound between my thighs, and I jerk a little in surprise, before opening myself up completely to him.

"I missed you so much, while you were away," I whisper desperately up at him, hands clinging onto his shoulders for dear life and legs squeezing tighter around him. "I worried about you!"

Earnestly pleased by my words, he holds himself still on top of me, then I hear him give out an incoherent noise as he eases gently into me. Warm, hot, wet. Thighs rubbing against each other, as he moved on top of me.

_Home._

"Yes, Edward!" I moan. "Please don't stop!"

I dig my nails into his shoulders and, after some time, after a steady, constant rough rhythm, I finally feel as if my whole body has surrendered, that every pore of my skin has opened up to envelop in the sensations he is making my body feel for him.

My eyes flutter closed without my consent as Edward hovers over me after our release, gasping and groaning, pressing his mouth against the top of my sweaty forehead, while muttering tender words my brain can't seem to register. My toes stay curled long after, my breathing coming out in rough, shaky exhales. I felt as if I was somewhere else; my body floating through the atmosphere, underneath the glorious wave of it all.

We lay there like that for a long time; trembling, naked bodies half curled together into the mass of tangled bedsheets.

I don't think I would ever forget this. Forget _him_.

I would never forget his smell- a little mixture of cigarettes, a musky scent and grass- as I inhaled in his skin through my nostrils deeply, and, for as long as I lived, I would never forget the way he felt being inside of me- especially the way he could make me feel such pleasure.

Soon, he withdraws and falls onto his side, propping himself up onto his elbows to lie beside me. He takes one of my hands, guides it slowly to his chest, then plays with my fingers. "So, have we reconsidered the marriage arrangement now, love?" He asks, a knowing, wide smile coming across his face.

I whisper back, without hardly thinking about what I was saying, still trying to come down the floating highness over the orgasm we had just experienced minutes ago. "Yes, Edward. I do want to marry you, and be with you for as long as we can be together. Through every hardship along the way, we'll get through it together." I hardly even recognized my voice yet, there was not one single cell in my body that regretted admitting to it.

He frowns and I felt my forehead crease in worry. I didn't understand why he was looking so sad all of a sudden. "I have to say, I'm a little disappointed with how quickly you gave in, love."

"Why?" I found myself still whispering, breathless.

In such a tender action that made my heart flutter, darn him, he raises my hand to kiss the back of it. He rolls back onto his side. "Because, love, it would have been so much funner to keep on having to convince you in bed, all day, into the night."

So suddenly, that I couldn't help but cry out in alarm, he grins mischeviously as he casually slides a finger up inside me. "May I?" he breathes, moving his finger very gently, and I felt myself tense up around him.

Darn it. Darn him.

_Having Edward all to myself as my husband in the near future; Bipolar, every day and night full of hot, steamy sex, and all_... It was something I could definitely get used to.

* * *

_**September (Bella's birthday)**_

Life seemed to be moving positively forward for the pair of us.

Edward finally asked his father Carlisle about getting a job at the hospital, while I finally managed to get a casual job working as a waitress in a small restaurant full of kind people.

Even after some encouragement from Edward, he had managed to convince me to call both Charlie, and Alice and Rosalie. He stood there leaning against the counter, ever so patient, silently playing with my hair and twirling strands into little knots with his fingers while I called them. Alice, Rosalie, and I agreed to meet for a girl's night next weekend- Edward insisted I go have a night away from him to enjoy myself.

My eighteenth birthday was coming up, and while I didn't have anything planned to celebrate the day, it seemed Edward had. He had become very secretive lately, and when I got home this evening, it was hardly a surprise he was waiting for me.

"What's for dinner, Edward?"

He gives me a guilty look. "Actually, I only made an appetizer, love. Here, I'll go get it."

Edward dutifully gets up and goes into the small kitchen for the appetizer. I have no idea what to expect; I didn't even know if Edward could cook all that well. The past few months of living together, we have mainly lived on my cooking, bowls of cereal and milk, if we can't be bothered and, occassionally, take-out.

Edward comes in, grinning crookedly all the while, which sends my pulse racing a mile a minute, carrying in a large round plate covered by a silver dome.

"Ta-da!" He flings it open, and I burst out laughing. Our appetizer is chocolate mudcake, with homemade icing decorations; a squiggly glump of pink icing sugar, which reads messily:

_Happy 18th birthday Bella._

There was something else he had bothered to write underneath in pink icing. It was a little harder to read though. I bent down, squinting my eyes:

_Will you be my fiancee please?_

My eyes widen and I felt the whole blood in my body rushing up to my face. I peer up at Edward in shock, positive my face resembled a red chilli in appearance.

"Bella?" He begins uncertainly. He takes one of my hands grimly in his, while his other hand digs through the side pocket on his jeans.

_Oh my God. He cannot be seriously doing this!_

"Bella, please keep in mind that this is only a small, insignificant little ring. Just because I'm giving you it as a gift now, for your birthday, doesn't mean that you have to feel pressured into marrying me tonight, or tomorrow for that matter."

_Oh no! He so is!_

He slides down onto his knee, and produces a small satin pouch from his pocket.

"Bella?" He says again, his voice trembling.

"Yes?" Mine matches his, sounding both trembling and scared.

"Throughout everything, you have still stuck by me, through good and bad, thick and thin. Even when I kidnapped you in my car to take you to Vegas, over my overdosing, everything... you still managed to stick by me. Now, I want to support you, through thick and thin, good and bad, in return. I promise to never take you for granted, to never hurt you, and, well... you already know I love you. So... will you do the extreme honour of agreeing to be my fiancee and, eventually, in four or five years time, whenever you're ready... my wife?"

"Edward... I, um, yes!"

Edward beams up at me and as I hold out my fingers, he slides the engagement ring over my finger into place above the silver promise ring he gave me months ago.

I was never one who wanted to make a big deal out of an engagement, mainly because I didn't particularly enjoy attention being put onto me, so I tried to swallow the nagging fear and twinge of excitement I felt inside, and turned to my mudcake.

"So, are you going to cut me a big slice of my appetizer now?" I tease, wiping at my eyes, while trying to restrain the various sorts of muddled emotions bubbling up deeply inside over his proposal.

"Oh, how can I deny my fiancee of her wishes," Edward teases back, grinning. "Of course I will cut you a piece. In a little while," he adds, scooping some of the melted chocolate off the cake with a finger. I give out a shreik as he deliberately smears it down alongside my throat, chuckling infectiously.

Then, as he puts his hands up in the air to emphasize surrender, bending down to lick the icing off my skin with a wet, moist tongue, he mumbles, "How about we use the plates and cutlery another night? It'll save time spent washing up later, after all. And, you know what more time means... right, love?" He winks ostentatiously at me.

_Did I ever!_

No matter what happens in the future, good or bad, I knew we would get through it. Because we had each other.

I would take the good with the bad any day of the week, so long as I still had Edward in my life. Love was about seeing an imperfect person in the best possible light- I felt that way about Edward. He was the most perfect person for me; understanding, caring and loving. A little crazy and overly sentimental at times, but that was exactly what I needed.

And _this_... our future... it was only just beginning

_THE END... :)_

* * *

**I am currently working on a very different fanfiction to PS, called Masen's Girl**

**It's the 1940's. Notorious gangster Edward Masen finds himself drawn to Isabella Swan, a Feds daughter. They embark on a wild life of crime. Will they survive or will they be going down in a shell of bullets? Bonnie & Clyde based. AH. Lemons. Check it out if you'd like. :-)**


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